Paper Faces on Parade
by JarethsTightPants
Summary: Evangeline wants to scream when her mother tells her that a world class pianist is arriving from Italy to polish her up for the marriage market. She's sent tutors packing before and this one shouldn't prove to be any different. Even if he wears a mask. She is more than just some broodmare to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. 2004 Movie with ALW Leroux and Kay E/OC R/C OMC/OMC
1. Prologue

**Summer of 1870 - Paris, France**

Erik shuffled through the stack of leather folios and sheafs of his handwritten music. For the fifth time that evening he sighed as he organized and reorganized his meager trunk of possessions. It hardly mattered if his work was in alphabetical or chronological order. No one but him would likely ever see it. Who would care? No one… not even him. The works that he'd left behind in Paris had been transcribed from memory in the months that had passed. It was easy enough work. He knew them all by heart as if they'd been carved upon his very soul.

His memory was perfect once he'd managed to lift his head up out of a bottle and set the morphine syringe aside. Those were dark times indeed and Erik was content, in a way, to leave that all behind him now and start fresh. The morphine and liquor had burned through his gut and veins and carved him out, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind. Afterwards, he'd put his pen to paper and transcribed every single aria and every single duet he'd ever dreamed. He'd felt some great need to record their story (his and Christine's) as if to prove that it had been real once upon a time. She'd loved him once. He knew it was true. But now he just felt hollow, and spent, and empty in her absence. Like a shadow that has faded into the darkness after the sun has set. His heart had been cut out of his chest that night. She'd taken it with her and left him behind to slowly wither away and die in her absence.

Food had turned to ashes on his tongue and nothing brought him pleasure. Alcohol numbed him for a short time, until he'd heaved his guts out into some back alleyway and added to the filth that lined those stinking gutters. The warm thigh of a prostitute wrapped around him in a shadowed alley brought his body relief for a short time but left him feeling even more depraved, hollow, and empty afterwards. It was no comfort to him.

Once the moment was gone and his body was spent he felt like the monster that _she_ must have thought him. Why else had she left him? Why else had she not understood that he'd done all of those terrible things for her? For them? So that they could have been together?

He'd have given her the world and made her his queen if she'd only let him remain by her side. He would have followed her anywhere and been delirious for it so long as he was by her side. Not that it mattered anymore. She was gone and happily married and he was puking his guts out in filthy gutters after he'd fucked a whore to try to forget _her_.

But it was impossible. She'd wormed her way into every corner of his mind and now he simply couldn't pry her loose. Every time he closed his eyes he saw _her_ there. The curve of her cheek, the color of her hair, and most of all the way that her limpid eyes had stared up at him with fear and unshed tears had glimmered in her eyelashes like dewdrops.

He'd done it all for her, but in the end she hadn't wanted him. Erik rubbed the back of his neck forcefully and closed his eyes and sighed for the sixth time that night.

Once the notes had flowed from his mind to paper he could barely stand to look at them, let alone play them, again. He would never play their music again. The music of the night was over. Erik closed the leather folio and tied it tightly with a blood red ribbon. He added it carelessly to the other contents of the trunk.

An entire lifetime had been reduced to one large steamer trunk and one leather suitcase. His clothing, his masks, his music. Did any of it really matter without _her_? The notes fell flat. The clothes never seemed to fit right. The masks chaffed. It was as if all of the color had been drained from the world in her absence.

She'd left him, her ring tucked neatly into his cold and trembling hand, as he'd wept on the lakeside shore while he watched her leave with her young beau. She'd rowed away from him with her perfect, beautiful lover at her side. She'd only briefly glanced back once before she had turned away from him for the final time. What had been the point of that one last, long look? She'd still left him, all while knowing that she'd taken his music with her too. She was his soul. She was his music. Did she know that she was leaving him to this living Hell? Would she have cared?

Even now he barely understood how he'd managed the escape from the angry mob at the time.

Erik barely remembered the weeks of dodging gendarmes afterward the great fire. The hiding and skulking about in shadows. The Daroga had found him, as the Daroga always found him, and spirited him away to some dark hole. Madame Giry had brought him what little she could scavenge from his ruined home. They'd moved from hovel to hovel, from town to town, until the fervor died down. And then, one day, the mismatched pair of men discovered that they'd been entirely forgotten about. There were no more suspicious glances their way. Gendarmes went back about their normal business. The season changed and France turned its attention to some new exciting scandal. Life continued in Paris.

In the weeks and months that followed the ever dauntless Persian had pried the empty liquor bottles from Erik's limp grip and then forced hot, salty broth down his throat when the morphine left him as compliant and weak as a newborn babe.

His heart had failed to stop even though Erik had wished on innumerable occasions that it would. But his body, it seemed, was determined to live. Anything, including death, must surely have been better than this miserable non-existence. Yet his heart continued to beats its staccato rhythm in his chest. Erik felt nothing now. He wondered vaguely if he would ever feel again, or if he'd live the rest of his miserable years in this strange, gray unfeeling state of mind. There was no more anger or sadness or rage left within him. Just this bizarre, unnatural lack of caring. He should be enraged that he, the Living Corpse, the feared sorcerer assassin of Mazandaran, the opera ghost, the Angel of Music, had been reduced to this state. Instead he felt absolutely nothing.

The Daroga shuffled up to him and peered into the steamer trunk before them. "Are your preparations finished, my old friend?"

Erik let the heavy lid of the trunk fall closed and nodded mutely. France… Italy… what did it matter? His Hell followed him wherever he went. And he felt nothing now.


	2. Chapter One

**Spring of 1874 (4 years later) - England**

Evangeline sat on the green velvet settee with her hands folded limply in her lap. Her needlepoint had been abandoned beside her just moments ago. The relaxed posture and soft lines of her body had been carefully constructed as part of her facade of indifference. Her foot moved back and forth lazily making patterns in the rug. Someone who didn't know better would think that Evangeline was the picture of a demure, young lady. Her mother would not be one of those people. Although that never stopped Evangeline from trying. The flash of defiance in her eyes was carefully hidden with her slightly downturned gaze as she pretended to study the way that her silk slipper left lines in the hand tufted Oriental rug. Honestly, who had thought that pink cabbage roses would look flattering on a green rug?

Her mother stood sternly in the doorway and Evangeline watched the carefully coiffed and styled woman slyly from the corner of her eye.

"Your father has just received news that your new music tutor will arrive in three days time. We had hoped that he would arrive before we left for London, but his travels were delayed by the weather. We can not postpone our travels any further," her mother informed her primly.

Evangeline nodded mutely. Spring was unpredictable in England. It rained almost daily, and sometimes the old, winding country roads flooded and travelers would be forced to backtrack and try different routes before they could progress any further.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior, Evangeline. You will not run this one off with your scheming and childish antics," her mother chided.

Evangeline schooled her expression and lifted her gaze to meet her mother's cold blue eyes.

"Of course, mother." What else was there to say? Open defiance would merely be struck down. It was better to feign defeat for now. She screwed her face up into something that she hoped looked like regret and shame.

Her mother's eyes narrowed and her thin lips thinned into a straight line.

"We are lucky that news of your latest scandal did not reach beyond England. Apparently this Venetian is proficient in piano and the violin and he's made something of a name for himself in fashionable circles as a composer in Italy. You will be a diligent pupil and you will learn your pieces for the musicale at the end of this year's season. I am _warning_ you, Evangeline, that this is your last chance," her mother added sternly.

Evangeline nodded dumbly as her fingers gripped the delicate silk of her light green morning gown. Perhaps if she was silent and still enough she'd fade into the sofa and be done with this conversation?

Her mother's ranting continued. "You are extremely fortunate that your father cares so much for your comfort. Must I repeat myself to be understood? This end of Summer music concert will be your only hope for salvation. I wear to God that I will ship you off to a Swiss convent and wash my hands of you if you are not engaged by the end. Not even your father will be able to save you then."

Evangeline felt the pin prick of tears in her eyes and she bit the inside of her lip in response. The bloom of pain halted the tears in their tracks. She'd not be reduced to tears in front of her harpy of a mother. She would not let herself appear to be so weak. The only tears that this woman would ever see from her would be fake ones that suited her need. The copper tang of blood touched her tongue and Evangeline forced herself to relax her jaw as she schooled her face to appear utterly despondent. It wasn't actually too much of a struggle at the moment.

"Perfect your piano solo, attract a husband, and do your duty to this family and England," her mother added sharply with vigorous hand movements that punctuated each command.

And then just like that her mother was gone in a rustle of silk skirts. The lingering notes of the woman's perfume was the only proof that she'd been there in the doorway at all.

Completely exhausted from the short conversation Evangeline allowed herself a moment of weakness. She raised her hands up to press against her eyelids until colors bloomed in her mind. Wet tracks of tears fell silently down her cheeks and coated her fingertips as she wept soundlessly into her hands.

* * *

Evangeline stood on the steps of her family's estate the next day as the servants scurried about in a mad rush of activity. A never ending pile of luggage was carted around and loaded onto two carriages. The carriages slowly sank into the damp gravel as the weight of each heavy trunk was added. The butler and housekeeper ordered servants about with quick commands as maids and footmen worked to ready the Earl and his wife for travel.

And Evangeline stood there on the gravel horseshoe bend of the driveway and watched it all unfold. She reigned in her emotions in order to appear silent with demurely downcast eyes. Only the white knuckled hands fisted into her skirts betrayed that she was more than just sad to see her parents leave for a few weeks. Her maid would chastise her later for wrinkling the delicate silk. But at the moment Evangeline hadn't a care. Her parents were leaving for London for several weeks and she was being left behind like a green girl who hadn't already had her debut into society and multiple seasons under her belt.

Her eyes flickered up beneath her lashes as her father stopped in front of her and pulled her into a hug.

"Oh darling girl, don't look so downtrodden. We'll only be gone for the Spring and a little of Summer. It is unusual, I know, but it could not be put off. Your mother and brother and I will be back before you know it," he said softly as he kissed her temple.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked petulantly even though she already knew the answer.

"There is much business for me to to take care of in London, my angel, and it is only for a few months. Here now, do not look so glum on my account I have no wish to see you in such a sodden state," her father added.

Evangeline wrapped her arms tighter around her father's torso as he patted her hair.

"Then take me with you, if you must go. I will be good, I promise," she lied.

Her father chuckled and patted her back before pulling away from the embrace. "But what of your new music tutor? He arrives in two days time. What would he think if he arrived to find that his star pupil had left?"

Evangeline pouted and flicked her eyes downward to hide the spark of defiance in them, "that he is lucky?"

Her father's hands dropped to her shoulders as he gave her arms a comforting squeeze. "Here now, you will amaze and astound him with your hidden talents. And at the end of the Summer you will triumph and shine. Any man would be a fool to not notice how special you are," he consoled.

Evangeline's frown deepened at the reminder of her fate and she watched her father's face darken with some strange emotion. It looked a little like disappointment but it was gone before she could be certain.

Her mother appeared in that moment in a flurry of activity. Maids and footmen parted before her like the sea making way for Moses. Her mother's personal maid was two steps behind her with her arms overloaded with a monstrous pile of hat boxes. Evangeline frowned. How many hats did one woman need for a few weeks? She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Her mother certainly never did anything by halves. And no one could say that the older woman was ever unpolished or unpoised. No, her mother was the epitome of modern elegance. She'd aged very well with just a hint of gray at her temples and she'd kept her figure through the years, although her forehead had been etched with lines and her blue eyes were crisp and sharp and cunning. Her mother was the spitting image of everything that Evangeline hated in the world.

"Come, Henry," her mother ordered as she marched to the carriage without another word between them. Apparently the woman had said everything to Evangeline that she needed to say yesterday.

Her father cast her a complicated look and shrugged ruefully as he leaned forward and placed one last kiss against Evangeline's forehead.

The sign of affection made her feel like a little girl again. Evangeline shut her eyes and sighed as her father left her side and joined her mother in the carriage.

The carriage door shut with a _click_ and the footmen strapped the last of the trunks on the back rig. Her mother's maid and her father's valet climbed wordlessly into the second carriage and then the driver snapped the reins and the carriages lurched forward.

Evangeline watched her parents leave her behind as they travelled to London. She tried to stop the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. Maids and footmen avoided her awkwardly as they shuffled inside the sprawling manor house to return to their normal daily tasks.

"Come inside, child, before the sun gives you spots," Aunt Mabel chided gently from somewhere behind her.

But how could she even think of going inside and pretending to everyone that everything was alright when her world was crumbling around her? It was not alright. She was not alright. And she never would be again.

Evangeline felt the tears coursing down her face in full force now. She fisted her hands in her dress and lifted the layers of skirts and petticoats. She slipped through the thinning crowds of servants and ran around to the back of the mansion as fast as her boots would carry her. The gardens were always quiet. They were rarely occupied or enjoyed. She would be able to think and scheme and plot if she could just be left alone to find a moment of peace. She ignored her elderly aunt's cries of protest as the tears streamed faster down her cheeks. All she could think of was escape and solitude and some way out of this whole damned mess.


	3. Chapter Two

Erik pulled his wide brimmed hat down lower onto his forehead in an effort to shield his face from the spring storm that was at this very moment threatening to drown him. For the hundredth time this journey he considered why he was doing this to himself. Surely no amount of money was worth dealing with such miseries. Why on Earth had he left beautiful, cultured Venice for this sodden, gloomy landscape?

The horse that was pulling his cart stopped suddenly and Erik cursed violently as he grabbed the wooden edge of his bench in a last ditch effort to remain seated. He flicked the reins and the horse took a tentative step forward before stopping again. Was the wheel stuck yet again? He'd lost track of how many times his cart had gotten wedged into the mud and stuck.

With a groan he leapt down from his perch and tried not to grimace as mud splattered up his pants. He was already soaked through to the bone so at this point what was a little more mess? Such a melancholic land. Had it always rained like this here? He wondered why people would continue to live here in such a miserable wet Hell.

Erik gripped the wheel and gave it a tug to see if it would budge but it held fast in the muck. Quickly losing his temper he aimed a foot and gave the wheel a careful kick. It rocked and settled itself even deeper into the muddy track of road. Gripping the edge of the cart he leaned all of his weight into advancing the wheel and with a quick tap on the horse's rump he tried to maneuver it forward as he had before. The horse whinnied as it strained and pulled, but both of their efforts were for naught. The cart refused to budge. He heaved all of his waning strength into the wheel but felt his feet slip dangerously in the mud. There was no traction to be had on this last expanse of grimy road. He'd traveled so far just to be stopped half a league from his destination.

Frustrated and angry, Erik moved to the back of the cart and pulled down the corner of the oilskin tarp to better cover his meager pile of possessions. There was no use in trying to force the cart to move. He'd decided that he would simply have to leave his things and hope that they wouldn't be disturbed until they could be retrieved. He'd only brought the bare essentials anyways, seeing as how he was only commissioned to be in this wretched place for the summer.

He left the cart with his covered possessions and made his way over to the straps that hooked the horse to the cart. His fingers released the gentle beast quickly, and then man and horse were freed from the quagmire. Erik smoothed one hand down the horse's neck before he gripped the reins tightly in one hand and leaped up onto the creature's now bare back. Riding without a saddle was not the most pleasant or comfortable thing, but there was no other option unless he intended to walk. And he did not intend to walk the last kilometer in the freezing rain. The mud stuck and clung to them and weighed them down as Erik gently urged the horse forward into small, careful steps. The horse plodded along and seemed glad to be free of the burden of the cart even if he was not so comfortable with a rider upon his back. But beggars couldn't be choosers and all Erik wanted in that moment was to be out of the storm and into clean dry clothing. He patted the horse on his shoulder and watched the animal's ear flicker in what he assumed was silent agreement.

The rest of the journey was miserable as the horse put one hoof in front of the other. Erik followed the directions that the innkeeper at the last town had given him. Sure enough, there was the giant oak tree at the fork in the road. Erik tugged on the reins and led the horse to the left. Muddy roads turned into gravel and the horse gained momentum as the path became easier to walk. A moment later they broke through a gap in the trees and Erik could see the enormous house rise up before him. The estate was vast and grand, but the downpour of rain made it impossible to really inspect it or appreciate it. He led the horse up to the covered porch and slid down off the weary animal. The reins dangled uselessly but the horse seemed content enough to stay put. Erik strode up onto the porch and pounded his fist on the front door. A moment later he was relieved when the door opened. An elderly man dressed in a well fitted neatly pressed suit peered out expectantly at him through the crack.

"I am the music instructor," Erik began in flawless (okay perhaps he had a slight accent) English. The words felt strange on his tongue after speaking nothing but Italian for the last four years.

The servant opened the door a little wider until the men faced each other squarely. The man's eyes flickered briefly over the white half mask before returning to his eyes.

"Servants enter through the back," the man informed him dryly.

Erik's eyes widened slightly in surprise as air rushed through his nose in a rude snort. Was this man serious? Did the man really expect him to go back out into the pouring rain and mud just to enter through a different door? The journey had been long and wearying and he wanted nothing more in that moment than a hot bath and a dry bed to collapse in. And perhaps a hearty meal. Erik hadn't had a decent meal in days. Did the English really consider flavorless porridge and gamey stew to be acceptable?

Just as Erik placed a hand upon the door to push it open wider so that he might escape the dreary weather the door shut in his face.

He reeled backwards as if he'd been struck. Apparently they truly did expect him to go back out into the pouring rain and mud just to enter through a different door. How utterly preposterous. Erik glared at the door as he considered pounding on it until they opened it again and let him enter. His eyes slid to the side where his horse stood patiently in the pouring rain.

Damn that rude servant, damn this rain, and (most of all) damn England!

_I'll get right back on that horse and leave tonight._ Nevermind that this desperate nobleman was prepared to pay a king's ransom to teach his brat piano. What was money worth, when his pride was involved? _I could be back at that warm inn in just an hour's time._ What was an hour in the pouring rain and mud to save him a few months of this pointless horseshit?

Erik stepped off the covered porch and stomped through the mud then grabbed the horse's reins in his fist. He was prepared to throw himself back onto the horse until his stomach rumbled loudly and knotted in hunger.

He turned back and glanced at the warm, sheltered mansion before him. Surely the English gentry would have better food than the bland porridge and gamey stew that surely awaited him at the nearby inn? The bed would be more comfortable, for sure. _Perhaps I'll stay for dinner, borrow a change of dry clothing, sleep in a warm bed, and then leave at first light?_ Erik grinned and nodded to himself. Enter through the back door, indeed. He'd get a filling meal and a good sleep and then leave this blasted country behind him. It never rained like this in Venice.

The horse followed him obediently as he led them through the waterlogged muddy gravel and around to the back of the estate. His architect's eye appreciated what little detail he could see through the downpour.

At last Erik found what he assumed was the back of the estate. No sooner had he reached the plain back door than it opened for him. The same rude manservant stood in the doorway, but this time the man opened it wide. Erik dropped the horse's reins again and shouldered past the man until he was out of the downpour at last.

"My cart was lodged in the mud a ways back just before the fork in the road. I trust that someone will be sent to retrieve it, and my things, once the rain stops," Erik added stiffly. Let them slog through the rain and mud to retrieve his things just for him to leave the next morning. It would serve them right for being so rude.

The servant eyed him up and down unashamedly. "Boy!" the man called out loudly startling Erik.

A slip of a boy with a head of messy brown curls appeared in the doorway. "Take the tutor's horse to the stables and see it settled. When the rain stops I expect you and the stable master will retrieve his cart and luggage."

The man turned towards Erik and arched an eyebrow. "You traveled through Hindhead, correct?"

Erik stared at the man incredulously. The man expected him to know the name of every tiny, backwards town that he'd traveled through? He shrugged in reply. Let them spend hours of their time searching for the cart.

"I received directions from an inn with a ridiculous name," Erik answered dryly as he pulled his sodden hat off of his head. He stomped his boots and delighted in the look of irritation that passed across the stuffy man's face as mud flecked across the clean wood floors.

"Which one? There are pubs in every town from here to London," the man questioned further with a note of irritation in his voice.

"Something about a swan," Erik answered finally in a bored voice. They'd get nothing further from him.

"The two necked swan." The man nodded to himself, then turned to address the youth who stood awkwardly between them. "Well?" he asked indignantly towards the boy.

The young boy nodded with wide eyes and slipped out into the rain without even pausing to throw on an oiled leather coat or hat. Erik narrowed his eyes at the scene. The English were strange, indeed. But perhaps they were used to such awful weather? He was merely glad to put it all behind him tomorrow. _I'll be back in Venice within two weeks time. Perhaps three._

The rude servant turned to address him again and Erik schooled his face into a mask of bland indifference.

"I will introduce you to the rest of the staff. I assume that you are without a proper change of clothes at this time? Indeed... well I shall see what we can procure for you while you await your luggage. In the meantime, take off your boots and leave them at the door. If you track mud all over the floors then the Housekeeper will flay you alive. Trust me when I say that you do not wish to be on her bad side," the butler intoned dryly.

Erik glared at the unflinching old man before stepping on the back of one boot as he pulled his foot free of the waterlogged leather. He removed both shoes and his cape and hat and hung both on an empty peg on the wall that appeared to be there for that very purpose. The elderly man looked him up and down but said nothing further as Erik followed him into the next room.

The man introduced himself as the Butler. Erik's brow furrowed at this. Did all English servants refer to themselves as their job title? He'd be damned if he was going to go around calling himself Tutor.

The man who called himself Butler showed him the extent of the servants quarters. There was the kitchen, where a plump elderly woman who was introduced as Cook was busily slaving away over a hot stove with two young girls, and then there was the servant's dining room, where the butler showed him which seat was to be his at meal times. Erik noted that the chair where he was meant to sit was carved semi-elaborately with oak leaves, whereas some of the other chairs were plain and some didn't even have arms. He wondered vaguely if the servants had some sort of hierarchy amongst themselves. What would be the point? A servant was a servant.

Next he was shown the men's living quarters (which was separate from the women's hall) and contained a bathroom meant for all of the men at the end. Erik detested the idea of sharing a communal bathroom with a dozen other men. _Thank goodness I'll be gone in the morning. _

The tour ended at a door, which the butler pushed open to reveal a tiny room with minimal furniture. There was a slender bed, a nightstand with a age spotted silver mirror and a pitcher and basin, and a small wardrobe for hanging up his clothing.

"Your sleeping quarters," the butler informed him.

Erik glanced about the room with narrowed eyes. It was very small and plain. He'd certainly slept in far worse, although he wasn't prepared to tell the rude servant that bit of information.

The butler seemed to infer Erik's very thoughts. "Be grateful that your station allows you a private room, some of the others share doubles," the man said with a sniff.

Since he no longer planned to stay more than the one night Erik nodded absent mindedly and stepped into the room. "This is adequate," he replied.

The butler sniffed again and the man's lips thinned into a straight line. "I shall see into obtaining you a change of clothing. In the meantime, I have tasks to attend to. You are not to step foot upstairs unless it is time for one of your lessons, or you are called for by a member of the household. You are not to leave the property without permission. Breakfast is at 6 AM and supper is at 6 PM, for which you will arrive on time or you will not eat. In between your duties you are free to do as you like as long as you do not leave the grounds."

Erik narrowed his eyes at all of the rules. Were all of the English so stuffy? Or was it just the aristocracy? It was a good thing that he wasn't planning to stay for very long. He let the boring man's rules flit in one ear and out the other as he surveyed the sad little room and its meager belongings.

"You will refer to Miss Evangeline as my lady. When the young sir Alfred is at home you will refer to him as my lord. The other children are away at school.

Erik's attention snapped to the man who stood in the doorway. Was that the little chit's name? No matter. His eyes slid away again, bored.

"The master of the house is Sir Harlowe. As an Earl he is to be addressed as his lordship and his wife as her ladyship. They are not in residence at this time," the butler informed him.

His eyes swiveled yet again to the thin, gray man. His benefactors were not even home to greet him? Erik felt his indignation rise as the slight chafed at his pride. And he'd be damned if he was going to refer to some little girl as my lady. The insult could not be borne.

Butler narrowed his eyes as if he could read Erik's very thoughts.

"Dinner is at 6. I suggest you set about making yourself as presentable as you can manage," the butler intoned wryly before shutting the door and leaving Erik to his thoughts.

* * *

An hour passed as Erik laid upon the bed in just his shirt and undergarments. He'd pulled the blanket over himself to ward off the English spring chill as he'd attempted to rest until Supper. His stomach growled, a constant reminder of the rough travels. _If I'd turned back around and headed to the inn I'd be eating already._ At half past five there was a knock on the door so he rose from the bed.

"Enter," he called out and the door swung open.

Butler strode in and laid a crisp black suit and starched white shirt out upon the bed. A pair of shiny black leather shoes joined the growing pile of clothing.

Erik glanced at it and arched his eyebrow at the man in silent question. Did the servants dress so formally for dinner? The butler was dressed sharply, which made sense as he spent much of his time upstairs, but none of the other staff had been so elaborately dressed. And how had the man guessed his sizing?

"Livery for you to borrow. Your presence has been requested upstairs. You are to dine with the family tonight," the butler informed him with a note of disapproval tingeing his voice.

Erik studied the man intently. But apparently the butler was a man of few words as the servant turned on his heel and left without another word. The door clicked shut and Erik was left alone with just the suit laid out upon his bed.

Dinner with the family. Interesting. The butler's reaction made him think that this was a rare event. And the stuffy man's disapproval would make the meal even more satisfying. Erik's stomach growled again as his fingers undid the buttons down his travel soiled shirt. Surely the family's dinner would be spectacular. Indeed, this could work out even better in his favor. _I'll have my fill of a delicious dinner, sleep a few hours, retrieve my things, and then be on my way before first light._

Erik grinned to himself as he peeled off his stained shirt.

Twenty minutes later after he'd finished dressing and grooming his damp hair as best as he could with his fingers when there was yet another knock on his door.

This time it opened without prompting and Erik glared as the butler surveyed him up and down and nodded in approval.

"Come, I will show you to the dining hall," the man entreated as he stepped back into the hall.

Apparently Erik was supposed to follow? He did, but only because he was hungry and the meal above stairs was surely to be more fine than the meal below.

The thin, old man lead Erik through a winding corridor of turns and doorways until they entered a more elaborately decorated bit of the estate. The change was dramatic upon exiting a back staircase that opened into a hallway. The walls here were covered in patterned damask fabric panels. Gas lights flickered in opulent gold filigree and crystal glass wall sconces. Dark, shining, carved furniture littered the hallway. Expensive Chinese painted vases filled with lush floral bouquets covered nearly every horizontal surface. Knick knacks adorned the rest. This was a house that had been in a family for generations. Each lifetime had added to the decor, and Erik observed the various decades that filled the room.

The butler led him to a sitting room where an old, plump gray-haired woman sat dozing in a velvet chair. Erik stepped into the room and turned as the doors slid shut soundlessly behind him. The woman never stirred.

Suddenly feeling a little bereft Erik wondered if he should remain standing, or take a seat on the other empty sofa in the room. He swayed from foot to foot and cursed himself for being so foolish when a different door opened and a young woman swept into the room in a rustle of fabric and a clattering of heels.

Erik felt his mouth run dry at the sight of her.

"Oh! Hello," she said, startled. Her bright blue eyes went wide and her pink lips parted in surprise.

And then her face smoothed out into a mask of cool indifference.

She seemed equally surprised by him as she boldly eyed him from head to toe. Her eyes flickered along the mask briefly before she looked away towards the dozing woman. She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. Her eyes flitted back over to him.

"You're the new music tutor, then?" the young woman asked impolitely.

She cocked her head and studied him openly, one hand fisted on her hip as she flicked a wayward bit of her blonde hair out of her face with the other hand. She tilted her head back and met his gaze evenly. The tilt of her chin was defiant and rude. If he didn't know better he'd have thought that she was sizing him up.

Erik's spine stiffened and his brow furrowed slightly. Who was this girl to judge him so openly? He'd served kings. His music was renowned in Venice. All of Italy clamored at his feet and begged him for his musical talents. His concerts, when he deigned to perform in public, sold out immediately.

"I am," he answered her evenly.

The girl smirked, one corner of her mouth tipping upward more than the other, until her cheek dimpled. It would be charming if her eyes had matched the smile. But they did not. There was no warmth in her steely gaze as she regarded him.

Erik let his gaze wander her body from head to toe openly. It was brash, for someone who'd been hired to provide services to a noble family. But, after all, he didn't plan to stay past the morning. And his benefactors were not at home to throw him out before he was prepared to leave.

His eyes wandered over her tall, willowy frame as they noted the expensive material and fashionable cut of her gown and the quality of the gems at her throat. His eyes took in the subtle curves of her body and stopped only momentarily over the expanse of creamy flesh that pushed over the edge of her bodice before they continued upwards. He would not ogle her like some crude ruffian. He could be a gentleman, if he wanted to. But one thing was clear; this was not some servant girl or maid. A cousin, perhaps? He'd heard that extended family members often stayed for long periods of time at each other's estates. He racked his mind to remember the names of the family members in residence, but they eluded him. He'd only half paid attention to what the butler had told him. At the time he hadn't thought it would be important.

When his eyes raised and caught hers again he saw that her eyes sparkled with amusement now.

Erik did not enjoy feeling like the only one not in on the joke.

"Does the tutor have a name?" she questioned cheekily with one thin eyebrow arched.

"Erik," he answered succinctly. He offered her nothing more.

Her eyebrow arched higher as she shifted from one foot to another.

"Only Erik?" she questioned with an amused lilt to her husky voice.

_What is she, a mezzo soprano?_ His eyes narrowed, lost in thought.

The old woman who was asleep on the couch stirred and startled as she saw that the room had become occupied during her slumber.

"Ah! Evangeline, my dear child, help me up from this sofa. I fear that I will not be able to rise for dinner without your help," the old woman beseeched.

Erik's eyes widened for just a moment as his head swiveled to watch the girl as she leaned forward and assisted the elderly woman to her feet. This? This… woman… was the child who he was supposed to teach? His eyes surveyed her from behind as his mind reeled. This was not what he'd expected. This was not who he'd thought… no… it was unthinkable… there was no way that he could be expected to stay now that he'd seen her. She was beautiful… and tempting… and a _woman_. Why had they not warned him? _I thought she'd be a child._ He'd have never accepted the job, regardless of the exorbitant pay, if he'd known otherwise. His stomach churned with dread. This would not end well. _I'll leave tonight. As soon as the rain stops._

The other occupants of the room failed to see his inner turmoil as the girl linked her arm with the elderly woman and the two of them turned from him without another word and exited the room.

Stunned and with absolutely no idea of what to do or say he followed behind them mutely. The girl deposited the old woman at the head of the elegantly set dining table, then took the seat to her left. That left the empty chair directly in front of him, and directly in front of her, for himself.

His knees felt weak and suddenly the room was too warm despite the April chill of the English countryside. The girl looked at him curiously as he seated himself in the chair. And a cheshire grin tugged at her lips as she settled her skirts and sat primly.

The elderly woman cleared her throat and the butler appeared from out of nowhere. The servant helped the woman into her seat and pushed her chair forward as the matron settled herself. Erik ignored the old man's withering stare. _Should I have offered to help the old bat sit? Why could she not manage a simple chair by herself?_

Five minutes into dinner and he'd already messed it all up, apparently. _Not that it matters,_ he reassured himself. He was leaving in the morning. No… he was leaving tonight. He'd eat his fill and slip out in the dark.

And still the girl was gazing at him from across the table. Was she sizing him up? Looking for a weakness? She seemed pleased with herself although he could not imagine what she'd gained in their brief interaction. Other than his discomfort of course. Unless… was that her goal? How odd.

Erik did not enjoy feeling like prey. It was unsettling and uncomfortable. He forced his face into a blank mask of calm, a calm that he was not feeling at this moment, and he returned her gaze levelly. Her eyes flicked downwards for a moment and the dark halfmoon of her lashes feathered across her cheeks as Erik felt a thrill run through him as if he'd won whatever twisted game they were playing. She turned her attention then to the elderly woman who sat at the head of the table and the two made comfortable, easy talk as Erik sat in silence and brooded.

The door swung open and a footman pushed a white linen draped cart into the room. Fine china bowls were placed in front of each of them and then a large, silver tureen was uncovered and the servant ladled soup into each of their bowls.

Erik glanced down at the bowl of soup and cursed himself quietly. Soup was difficult with his mask. This wretched dinner was going to be completely unpleasant. Erik dipped his soup spoon into the bowl and his eyes flicked up across the table where the girl sat and stared at him with her mocking eyes.


	4. Chapter Three

Evangeline had spent the last three courses of that evening's dinner without glancing at the new music tutor once. He was so flustered that it hardly made it fun. She stabbed the last piece of her roasted chicken and chewed the bite daintily as she pretended to listen to her Aunt's latest complaints about her rheumatism pains.

Finally she risked a glance towards the mysterious pianist who sat across from her. She'd thought he would be Italian. Briefly she recalled that her mother had mentioned Venice during that little confrontation. But while his English was nearly perfect there was a slight accent to his voice that did not sound Italian at all. She knew a few words of Italian and he didn't have that lilt. And from what she could see of the unmasked portion of his face he did not have the cool, olive complexion that she'd expected to see either. His hair was dark but that was common across many countries. And he had the most eerie yellow eyes she'd ever seen.

If she was honest with herself then she could admit that the man who was seated before her was not at all what she'd anticipated. She chewed thoughtfully as she considered how, or if, it changed things. Had her mother known that he was this young when she'd hired him? _Surely not._ There was no way that she'd have hired such a young man and then left them alone together. Aunt Mabel acted as her chaperone when needed, but the elderly woman was not a very attentive one. Which suited Evangeline well enough, but her mother not at all. Her fork _clinked_ as she set it upside down on her plate signaling to the servers that she was finished with this course.

Evangeline had expected an old, fat man with thinning hair and a wiry broom-shaped mustache. Her eyes flicked towards the man again and she struggled to not squirm as his brightly shining amber eyes locked onto hers without any hint trepidation. She felt her back stiffen in response as he stared at her unashamedly. Her brow itched to furrow, but she managed to keep her expression light and neutral and airy as they stared each other down.

What kind of servant was this? He held her gaze like he was her equal. She relaxed her posture back into the chair as the footman stepped forward to take her plate away. Evangeline let her finger trail up and down the stem of her wineglass as she considered him silently. When his eyes locked on her fingers she shifted her gaze away from him and brought the glass up to her lips. She took a sip of it, then licked a droplet of wine from her lips as her eyes shifted back towards him.

The slight flaring of his nostrils alerted her that he had seen it and been effected. Her eyes narrowed slightly, calculating. So he thought that she was attractive, then. Good. That could be another weapon in her arsenal for getting rid of him. She knew how to be beautiful - how to flirt without crossing any actual boundaries.

Evangeline turned back to her elderly Aunt and smiled as their old plates were cleared away and their dessert was set out before them. She sank her little fork into the chocolate cake and speared off a bite.

"Oh I know just the thing!" Aunt Mabel exclaimed excitedly.

Evangeline let the fork drop away gently as she turned her attention to her chaperone. She quirked one eyebrow in silent question.

Mabel grinned at her conspiratorially. "Our dear music teacher here should play for us after dinner. Oh it will be such a treat to have music in the house again. My late Edward was a hobbyist violinist, you know," Mabel reminisced.

Evangeline was suddenly speechless. She could not say no. It would be entirely too suspicious. She glanced at him. No, she couldn't refuse… but he could.

"That would be lovely," Evangeline agreed softly. Her eyes flitted back to his eerie amber gaze, "but perhaps he is overtired from his travels and a quiet evening of rest would be more welcome this evening," she demurred gently.

Erik cleared his throat and drew Evangeline's attention. "It was a rather long… and trying journey," he replied tentatively.

"Horsefeathers!" Aunt Mabel cackled as she shoved a large forkful of chocolate cake into her mouth.

Evangeline's serene facade nearly cracked in that moment. Normally her dear Aunt's wild, outlandish antics filled her with mirth. But usually the results of said antics were directed at someone other than her.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at the old woman, whose smile only grew wider and wider as she shoveled more chocolate cake into her upturned mouth. Evangeline's jaw clicked shut and she set her cake laden fork back down onto the plate untouched. Suddenly she had no more appetite.

"As my lady commands," he acquiesced with a nod to her elderly Aunt.

This only encouraged Aunt Mabel who grinned at him amusedly. "Oh, I do! I do command," the old woman chuckled happily and pushed her chair back from the table to stand.

Evangeline stifled a groan and rose quietly from the table as Aunt Mabel rounded on the music tutor and forced him to stand up and take her by the arm.

Arms linked together Aunt Mabel led Erik from the room and Evangeline was forced to follow behind them. It rankled. She ignored her Aunt's prattling chatter as, instead, she focused her eyes on the strange man who was walking in front of her. His back was tense and he held his arm stiffly outwards so that her Aunt was kept as far away from him as possible. And Aunt Mabel seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort. Or, just as likely, she simply didn't care. _Old age has its advantages after all._

Erik, for all intents and purposes, appeared uncomfortable with the simple act of being touched. The mask was the most likely culprit. Or perhaps he was simply reserved? But he did not appear to be shy. He'd met her gaze evenly and without wavering. He'd stared at her unashamedly and let his gaze wander over her decolletage and then he'd met her gaze afterwards as if daring her to object. Those were not the actions of a shy bachelor who was unused to touching women regardless of how old they were. It must be the mask. What a shame. He was rather handsome on the other side. Evangeline felt her brow furrow as that thought came up out of nowhere. She bottled and stamped it back down and quickly slapped a look of cool indifference across her face.

Evangeline made a mental note to consider that thought in more depth later as their trio entered the music room. She watched quietly as Erik's posture changed. His back straightened and his free hand flexed at his side. His shoulders squared and he stood taller and more confidently. So music made him comfortable and gave him confidence. She filed that away for more consideration later too.

Aunt Mabel dropped his arm and settled herself onto the cream velvet settee, then patted the seat next to her. Evangeline crossed the room and sat next to the old woman obediently as Erik turned slowly about the room. His bright amber eyes flashed like liquid gold in the brightly lit music room as he surveyed the plethora of instruments that her family owned. Most of them were for show and had never been touched.

She watched him closely as his gaze flitted from instrument to instrument, before he strode confidently to the piano. He lifted the heavy lid up and slid the support bar into place.

Evangeline watched as his fingers trace the black lacquered wood like it was an old friend.

After a moment of simply staring at the piano his eyes rose and latched onto them across the room.

"Any special requests?" he inquired diplomatically.

"I have always been fond of Mozart's Moonlight Sonata," Aunt Mabel probed gently.

He nodded and settled himself on the seat.

Evangeline was not prepared for his playing. The song started out typically enough. She'd heard this one performed many times by many people over the years. But she had never, ever heard someone play it the way that he played it. Her breath hitched and she blinked in surprise as his fingers worked deftly over the keys and the most beautiful and haunting song filled the room. The threat of tears pricked her eyes as he played. It wove around them, a perfect mixture of bittersweet longing and fond regret.

A soft sniffle pulled her attention from Erik and the piano. Evangeline felt a flash of panic as she took in her old Aunt's tear streaked face. She set a hand on the old woman's shoulder but was waved away as Erik finished playing the melancholy piece. He paused and a deafening silence filled the room as she saw him glance their way from the corner of her eye.

"Are you alright?" she asked her aunt, concerned.

"Oh, do excuse the silliness of an old, sentimental woman," Aunt Mabel blubbered as she pulled a lace edged handkerchief from somewhere in her ample bosom. The old woman wiped her cheeks and nose and folded the handkerchief back together as she set it in her lap.

"The song merely reminds me of…" the old woman began tentatively before her voice broke and she couldn't complete the sentence.

Evangeline rubbed comforting circles on her Aunt's back.

"That is what music is for, dear girl, to make us feel. To make us remember. The first bloom of love, the pain of its loss, and all of the wonderful and terrible bits in between."

Evangeline smiled sadly and leaned forward to place a kiss on the old woman's crepey cheek.

"Who let you get so wise?" she chided her old Aunt gently.

And Aunt Mabel laughed as Erik set his fingers back to the piano and played something sweet and light.

One song blurred into the next as Erik played. How much time had passed? It could have been hours. It felt like minutes. Evangeline stared out the dark window, lost in thought. He kept the music soft and gentle and Evangeline fought off the wave of gratefulness that welled within her for his small act of kindness towards Aunt Mabel. She glanced at the old woman and let out a shocked puff of air when she saw that the old woman was asleep yet again.

Her Aunt's head tipped backwards slightly onto the top of the settee as she gently snored.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the old woman. She'd been known to feign sleep before when it suited her. She snapped her fingers suddenly in front of the old woman's face, but Aunt Mabel didn't flinch. If anything her snoring intensified until even the tutor noticed it from across the room. He looked up at them from where he sat at the piano. His fingers paused their playing.

She shot him a withering glare and motioned wildly with her hand for him to continue. He stared at her with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow but resumed playing. The settee creaked as she stood but Aunt Mabel's soft snoring continued. He glanced at her warily as she approached the piano but his fingers didn't stop again. One song melted into another and he played without even glancing at the keys as he watched her move quietly towards him.

Evangeline leaned against the side of the baby grand piano and set one elbow on the thin strip of lacquered wood that made up its open edge. She fitted her chin on the upturned palm of her hand and studied him unashamedly. He considered her in return. His playing never ceased as they stared at one another until she blinked and lost their little unspoken game.

"How much are my parents paying you?" she demanded in a hushed voice.

The song faltered for just a second but he recovered quickly and the song morphed into another one effortlessly. He blinked lazily, then narrowed his eyes at her.

For a moment she thought that he didn't intend to answer her.

"A thousand pounds," he answered her finally.

Evangeline's eyes widened in complete shock before she could stop herself. Her elbow slipped on the piano and her lips may have even parted in surprise as she fought not to make an embarrassing sound. And the horribly smug man who sat before her merely smirked up at her as he continued to play.

"That much?" she asked incredulously. She didn't even try to stop herself from sounding breathy and weak as she leaned against the piano a little.

"What, you don't think that I'm worth it?" he teased as his fingers glided effortlessly and hypnotically over the keys.

Who the hell played music like that anyways? He was all fluid, graceful movement and precision. She glared daggers at the insufferable man as he laughed at her with his eyes. But it only made his grin bigger.

"Oh yes, you're quite talented," she seethed. "And modest, too. Don't forget modest."

"I never do," he taunted her softly. "It is one of my best traits."

A thousand pounds! Evangeline stared off into space as the wheels in her head turned and she calculated and recalculated the possibilities. A thousand pounds was a tenth of her father's yearly income, and nearly double her mother's annual stipend. No one in their right mind would ever give up such an exorbitant sum. And that meant that he would be nearly impossible to get rid of. The plan to annoy him into quitting, thus resulting in a delay of the end of summer musicale, would not be possible now that she knew how much he was being paid. The weight of her future settled onto her shoulders like dread and her stomach churned unpleasantly. Time. She needed time to think. Something would occur to her. It had to. She was merely too upset to see the possibilities right now. After all, she had months to figure this out without ending up married to some boorish fop or shipped off to a foreign convent. Surely she was clever enough to come up with something in all that time.

When she was sure that her expression was back under control she slid her gaze towards him and found that he was studying her silently as his fingers continued to play some song she'd never heard before.

Her brow furrowed in thought. "What is that?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"One of my own," he admitted. The corner of his mouth turned up in another self-satisfied grin.

It was good. But she'd be damned if she ever told him that she liked his original music. He was arrogant enough without her praise.

"Hmm…" she murmured noncommittally instead.

She only saw his smirk falter because she was looking for it out of the corner of her eye as she stared off into nothing. He recovered quickly. The sounds of Aunt Mabel's snoring resounded from the settee across the room.

"You will have your work cut out for you," she warned him. She would not make his thousand pounds easy for him. Not if he was ruining her life for it. And if she happened to annoy him into breaking his contract early then so be it. _That will serve my purposes just fine._

"Are you really that terrible?" he chided her mercilessly.

Evangeline turned her head to face him fully and smirked in response. She stabbed a finger in the air in his direction. "I will have you know that I am perfectly adequate," she rebutted. Her eyes flicked down to his hands as they danced along the keys in perfect timing.

"Perfectly adequate?" he parroted. His voice was unimpressed.

She nodded curtly and snorted. "Perfectly. Adequate." she replied, punctuating each word with a jab in the air in his direction.

"I suppose I shall be the judge of your adequacy… or lack thereof," he retorted as he grinned up at her. He was entirely too smug for her liking.

Evangeline cut her eyes at him and pursed her lips in a petulant moueue. She noticed the way that his eyes flickered towards her mouth when she did that.

"Your playing is very pretty, but is it a thousand pounds pretty?" she inquired acidly with a quirked brow as she gestured towards the piano that he was playing.

He grinned widely then, and belatedly she realized that she'd just complimented his composing when she'd just moments before vowed to herself to not to do that very thing. Her stomach fluttered with some unknown feeling. An uneasiness spread through her and it took all of her concentration to keep her expression intact as she stared down at him haughtily.

"Ah," he muttered, "but you haven't heard me sing yet."

Aunt Mabel snored loudly from the settee across the room.

Evangeline glanced over at the happily sleeping woman and smiled before glancing back at Erik. Her grin spread until she knew that her eyes were shining prettily in the flickering gas lights.

She let her eyes flicker to her sleeping, snoring Aunt. "I think you've found your partner should you ever want to sing a duet," she jested.

His face fell flat and his hands stopped playing as his head swiveled around to take in her snoring Aunt.

And then Evangeline couldn't help herself once she saw the baffled expression on his face. She laughed. The sound of her laughter echoed in the quiet room and her Aunt startled awake at the sound.

"Oh… oh… how much did I miss?" the old woman asked sleepily.

Evangeline crossed the room and held her arms out to help the old arthritic woman rise from the settee.

"Nothing, Auntie, you were only asleep for a moment. Come, let us put you to bed," she said sweetly as she led the woman from the room. As she crossed the threshold of the doorway she couldn't help but pause and glance back at him over her shoulder. His hands hung limply at his sides and there was a strange, unreadable expression on his face. It didn't help that he was turned slightly so that she saw more mask than skin. It made him difficult to read. It made him a challenge.

"Ack! These old bones," her Aunt complained loudly.

Evangeline's attention swiveled back as she shushed the elderly woman and led her down the hallway towards her bedchamber.

* * *

**Author's Note:** A thousand pounds in 1874 would be nearly £50,000 pounds today, which translates to roughly $65,000. That means that Evangeline's family is absolutely loaded.


	5. Chapter Four

Erik stared down at the piano keys before him with his mind lost in thought. Evangeline was the strangest creature that he'd ever met. And he'd met many. On the surface she was haughty and untouchable. Her pale eyes were cold and calculating. She looked at him keenly and saw what buttons to press. He'd slipped back into old familiar patterns and teased her back, as he often did with the Daroga, and she'd taken it without any quivering or hint of tears. But then there was the way that she'd looked at her weeping Aunt. Her cold facade had slipped and he had seen the warmth in her tender gaze. _Did she realize how utterly enchanting she'd been in that moment?_ She could bring men to their knees if she looked up at them like that through her dark lashes. It would be best for everyone if she never discovered _that_ particular skill. She'd be an unstoppable force.

His fingers traced the edge of the ivory keys of the Steinway. It was a masterfully crafted instrument and it had been fun to play. He'd left his Bӧsendorfer behind in Italy and the two and a half week journey without it had made him miss the feel of an instrument under his hands.

Glancing about the room revealed a plethora of musical instruments. There was a small, sleek harpsichord against the far wall, a case of violins and violas settled on the wall between two large paintings, in one corner there was even a large cello propped upright in a stand, and in another corner there was a large gilded harp with a nearby velvet covered stool.

Rising from the piano bench he headed towards the wall display that held the violins and violas. It was strange to showcase them in such a display. Especially with the wet English weather. He pulled the glass doors open and brought one of the violins down.

Its sleek, carved neck fit sweetly into his hand as he picked out the accompanying bow and set it to his neck. What would it hurt to play a little before he left? After all, it was still raining outside. _I can't leave just yet._ And playing was a far better way to pass the time rather than sitting in that empty, impersonal servant's bedroom.

The violin was only slightly out of tune despite its appearance of not having been played for some time. There was no speck of dust in the crevices yet Erik could tell that it had not been recently played.

His fingers turned the strings as his bow tested each note until they sang. And then he began to play for real.

A thrill ran through him, as it always did, when the music was perfect. The notes rang out as he made the violin sing. He lost himself in the music as he let the instrument do what it wanted.

A little while later when the song was done he pulled the violin from the crook of his neck and set the bow aside. There were wet paths of silent tears on his cheeks. He hadn't been moved to such emotion from music in years. Not since… but he didn't think of those times anymore. Those memories were best when they were locked away where they couldn't hurt him any longer. His mask slipped uncomfortably against the damp skin and the chafing sensation brought his thoughts back to the present. He wiped the tear stains away with the back of his hand.

His brow furrowed as he looked down at the violin curiously. Who had crafted such an exquisite instrument?

Erik carried it over to the nearest gas light and held it aloft. His eyes skimmed the lacquered wood. There was no stamp on the neck or on the back. No carving or gilded paint. Holding it closer to the light he angled it just so and peered into the carved opening of the f-hole. Ah, there it was, the maker's label. It must be an old instrument indeed to only be identified by the inside label.

He tipped the violin back until the faint, scrawling calligraphy was legible.

_Antonius Stradivarius Ceremonenfis_

_Faciebal Anno 1716_

He groaned. Of course it was. Of course such an instrument would be locked away in some English mansion in the middle of some muddy countryside and surrounded by nothing but cows and sheep dung. Of course it would be hidden away unplayed and unappreciated in some glass doored cabinet like a common practice violin where no one would play it for decades because they didn't understand how important it was to the world. These types of people were only ever concerned with the prestige of owning a famed violin. They only ever cared for the bragging rights. They had no appreciation for its inherent worth as an instrument that wanted to be played.

For a brief moment Erik considered stealing it. _I could be long gone before they notice it is missing._ The music room seemed little used enough. How often had maids needed to dust or tidy it in its lack of use? But they'd have known who had taken it. They knew his name and where he resided. He would have to destroy the life he'd built in Venice in order to take the Stradivarius for his own.

His stomach sank at that thought, and he wondered when he'd become so… complacent. He'd never had difficulty walking away from a life before. But Venice felt different. His life was comfortable now. He had a small circle of colleagues, fellow musicians, who understood him in ways that he'd never been understood before. He had a sunny little flat in a quiet part of town. His music was appreciated by the masses. Other musicians fought each other to play beside him. He'd even taken an especially talented pupil under his wing once or twice in the last four years. His mask went unspoken of in polite circles. Venice knew to look the other way if they wanted his brilliance. The Venetians'' appetite for beauty and art and creative brilliance was insatiable. He'd left his pain behind in France and managed to find what he'd been looking for his entire life in Italy. At one point in his life he'd thought that was love, but now he knew that it was just quiet acceptance. And he'd become accustomed to his life as it was now. He'd grown comfortable and the uneasiness that he'd lived with for decades had finally dissipated.

So what was he doing here in this soggy, bleak country? He stared down at the famed violin in his hand and fingered its silver strings.

"Do you like that one in particular?" a soft voice asked him from the doorway.

His back stiffened and his shoulders squared. He fought the urge to whirl around, startled. How had she managed to sneak up on him? He should have heard the rustling fabric of her skirts, or the click of her heels against the floor. But she'd moved as silently as him. She'd managed to surprise him yet again. And he was not overly fond of surprises.

Erik turned slightly on his heel and craned his head until he studied her as she stood in the doorway with her shoulder leaned nonchalantly against the frame. She was the spitting image of ennui.

Was everything that she did always so carefully crafted? What was real? She was like an actress who played a role that only she knew. But that tender moment with her Aunt had been real enough. So which girl was the real one? The one who'd kissed her crying Aunt, or the one who stood before him all haughty and regal now?

And blast it all, how long had she been standing there in the doorway watching him? He found the concept to be entirely disconcerting. He was the watcher. People did not sneak up on him and startle him in the dark. He frowned. Was he losing his touch? His edge? Growing lazy and careless in his old age? He was only forty. That wasn't so very old, was it?

Her eyes flitted about the room as if she was seeing it for the first time. And then they landed squarely on him again as he let his arm relax, the violin dropping to rest against his thigh.

She smirked at him, her eyes dancing with amusement. He wasn't certain what she found so entertaining, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she was laughing at him again. He failed to see the humor.

"It is tolerable," he replied with feigned indifference. His grip tightened on the bow.

She threw her head back and laughed, her fingers coming up to finger the string of faceted gemstone beads around her neck as she studied him with her cold, piercing blue-gray eyes.

"What is your bar for excellence then, I wonder, if even a Stradivarius does not impress? Well… have a good evening with your merely tolerable violin, music tutor," she condescended as she pushed off from the doorway and turned her back to him.

"Erik," he called out to her.

She must have heard him, although he'd spoken softly, because she paused in her retreat and turned back to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyebrow quirked and her cheek dimpled. It would have been attractive if her amusement had been genuine.

"Does nobody have last names in Venice?" she inquired cheekily.

He shrugged in reply. "I am only Erik."

She turned back around to leave. "Good night, only Erik."

He set the violin back to his chin and watched her disappear into the dark hallway. The violin fit against his him as if it had been carved specifically for him. He wrapped his long fingers around its neck. Her laughter echoed down the hall as she walked away. Erik set to playing a familiar tune until his music drowned her out of his head.

After all, he only had a few more hours left with it. As much as he'd have liked to spirit it away, he now knew that it would be impossible without a tremendous amount of effort and planning. That spoiled chit knew what it was, and he was certain now that it would be quickly missed before he could manage to get out of this horrible, cold, wet country. He'd be caught, and who knew what England did to thieves? He had no desire to see the bleak inside of an English jail cell. But the violin was his for a few hours yet. When would he get this opportunity again? And so he set his bow against the strings and played the night away.

The hours melted away like seconds. But he was used to sleepless nights when the music took him.

Erik stayed in the music room until the sun's rays poked faintly through the thick clouds. They disappeared as quickly as they'd come. The rain had waxed and waned in spurts throughout the night. At best it was a light drizzle, at its worst it was blown sideways until it pelted the glass windows so violently he'd thought they might just shatter. He was sure that it would have stopped by dawn at least. But apparently England never stopped raining in April. He cursed loudly, since there was no one to hear him, and ran fingers through his tousled hair as he sighed. _I'm stuck here._


	6. Chapter Five

Evangeline woke to the careful prodding of her personal maid. Instead of rising as she should have she buried her face deeper into the pillow and rolled into a tighter cocoon of warm blankets.

"Oh no you don't," Celeste whined in her thick French accent.

Evangeline felt herself being shaken and she groaned and mumbled incoherent nonsense in response.

"Five more minutes," Evangeline pleaded, her voice muffled by the pillow in her face.

"Oh well, that is fine then, sleep a little longer. I only thought that you would wish to look beautiful this afternoon considering that today is your first music lesson. But I suppose that it does not matter to you that you have a handsome Frenchman waiting for you in the music room," Celeste sassed.

Evangeline's head lifted from the pillow with a start as she scrambled onto her knees on the bed. She smoothed her nest of hair out of her face and stared openly at her maid.

"What?" she said dumbly.

"Your handsome French music tutor. He is waiting on you. Shall I go and tell him that you prefer to sleep?" Celeste chided her with a sly grin.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at the girl as she fought to clear the morning fog from her mind.

"What time is it?" she demanded.

Celeste stood up from the bed and headed over to the wardrobe. The doors were flung wide open as the maid's head disappeared into a drawer. A flurry of undergarments and skirts were tossed haphazardly onto the unkempt bed.

"Half past ten!" Celeste chimed out brightly.

Evangeline groaned. How could anyone be so perky before noon? _It should be illegal._ She yawned sleepily and rubbed at her tired eyes.

"Why so early? I don't recall setting a morning appointment with him," she complained as she pulled her chemise over her head and tossed it carelessly to the ground. Goosebumps raised over her arms in the chilled morning air.

Celeste bustled over to the bed with a stack of garments in her hands.

Evangeline dutifully rose and let her maid dress her for the morning. Chemise, stockings, pantalets, boots, and corset…

"Ow! Are you trying to break my ribs?" she challenged irritably. The maid pulled the laces even tighter in silent response.

"I need to breathe!" Evangeline complained. "Loosen it. And I will wear the blue and yellow striped gown this morning," she ordered.

"You do not need to breathe to play the piano, _mademoiselle_. You are not playing a wind instrument," the maid replied saucily with a smile and a wink.

Evangeline's head whipped to look at Celeste, who ducked her head and pretended to fiddle with the ties. She narrowed her eyes at her normally placid maid and studied the girl.

"What is your game here, Celeste?" she asked softly. There was a hard edge to the words that belied the soft tones of her voice.

Celeste's big brown eyes looked up at her a little wide. "Game, _mademoiselle_?"

"_Oui_," Evangeline probed. But she let her eyes soften and watched as Celeste relaxed a fraction.

"He is very handsome, despite the mask… no?" Celeste admitted.

Evangeline blinked dumbly at her maid and licked her lips as she chose her words carefully. "Oh Celeste, you are a hopeless romantic," she proclaimed softly. All was forgiven. Maids were allowed to be silly, especially the French ones. "Loosen the ties," she ordered again as she looked away and stared straight ahead.

Celeste set her fingers to the back of Evangeline's corset and the stays loosened to their usual level of tightness. Evangeline shifted until it was properly in place and then without another word her bustle and petticoats and gown were being shoved over her head and tugged into place.

Once she was fully dressed her maid ran a hair brush roughly through Evangeline's tangled hair, and then her long dark blonde locks were being wound up into an intricate looking knot and sharp pins were being stabbed into place.

Evangeline caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled back at Celeste. "Charming as always, my dear, what would I ever do without you?" she praised the girl and was rewarded with a shy smile in return.

The French maid curtsied and set about cleaning up that morning's mess as Evangeline sat at her toilette and washed and dried her hands and face. She opened up her pot of rouge and added the barest hint of blush to her cheeks and lips. Scooping up her small aquamarine and gold earrings she slid them through the holes in her lobes and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she remembered her mother's horror that she'd pierced her ears one season in London. It always made her feel slightly more defiant to wear earrings especially around her mother who viewed it as barbaric and garrish.

Satisfied with her appearance she rose from her toilette and left to find the music room. Breakfast could wait. She estimated that this would prove far more entertaining than toast and hot chocolate anyways.

When Evangeline approached the music room she was not surprised to see Erik standing at the window as he glowered up at the dark clouds. She fought to keep the pleased smile from her lips. _Good_. He was already mad at something. Her work was already half done for her. Her eyes slid to the sofa on the far end of the room where Aunt Mabel was already sound asleep. Some chaperone, indeed. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Evangeline turned her attention back to the angry man before her.

"You act as if the rain clouds have personally affronted you this morning. Does it never rain in Venice?" she prompted as she swept into the room. Her heels clicked loudly on the floors and she enjoyed the way his jaw tightened in response.

"You are late," he barked.

Evangeline paused and quirked her brow, her lips parted in surprise. She blinked twice and let her face melt into a look of satisfaction. His eyes darted across her face and to her lips as she grinned up at him and stepped closer.

"Can one be late if a meeting time was never previously agreed upon?" she began as she stepped further into the room.

He turned from the window and settled the full weight of his glower upon her. Evangeline fought not to laugh or smile as she pretended to be completely ernest. He looked as if he already wanted to throttle her. She blinked up at him through her long eyelashes and held her place when he brushed past her and settled himself on one end of the piano bench.

The piano's lid had already been lifted into place. How long had he been waiting? She hoped it had been hours. She licked her lips and settled onto the bench next to him. She had to lift her skirts a bit as she settled down. Her layers and layers of skirt and petticoat were not intended for a shared piano bench, nevermind the bustle. They swamped his leg and crowded him on the bench.

"Is all of that really necessary?" he scoffed as he looked at her dress with a baffled expression.

Evangeline tilted her chin and looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked.

She was startled when his hand darted out and grabbed a bit of the ruffled apron that edged the skirt of her gown. He shook the layer of draped fabric wordlessly, and then released the flounce as it had bitten him.

"That!" he hissed as he withdrew his fingers.

Evangeline stared up at him in actual surprise. The foolish man apparently had no idea of the huge faux pas that he had just committed. Who was this man? Had he lived under a rock his entire life? How did he not know that bachelor servants did not touch the gowns of unmarried noble ladies? It was entirely improper. If her mother had seen it then he'd have been fired right on the spot and sent on his way without a reference. To be fair, they shouldn't even be sitting on the same seat so closely together. If she shifted her foot to the side a little then their legs would touch. But it was piano, and he was her tutor, and some things could be overlooked for necessity.

"Well?" he demanded as his eyes roamed over her body up and down.

"I don't understand," she lied as she lowered her voice and leaned towards him. "Would you prefer that I come to lessons in my undergarments? That hardly seems proper…" she whispered softly, as if they were conspiring together.

He reeled back from her as far as he could without upsetting the bench (and her with it). Honestly, the man acted as if he'd just been slapped. His responses were so extreme… and honest. He was not a shy or humbled servant. And he was not a calculating member of society who knew how to play the game. What was he? He was an enigma, and the mystery stirred something dangerous deep inside of her.

Erik's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched tightly as he gritted his teeth. Two points to her, and they'd only just begun. This promised to be a very interesting day, indeed.

"Begin," he grumbled in a dark voice.

Evangeline set her hands to the familiar places on the piano and began to play. She was only two bars into Chopin's Nocturne when his hand darted out again. This time, instead of grabbing at her skirt, he slapped the back of her right hand quickly.

Evangeline stopped playing as the sting blossomed on her hand. She looked up at him in surprise. But he wasn't even looking at her. His large hand was gripping her arm down by the wrist as he changed the positioning of her forearms. He shook her hand a little and resettled it onto the piano.

"Your hands and wrists are too stiff and you are hitting the keys with the flats of your fingers. You must keep your hands arched, but soft, and your wrists pliant. Strike the keys with the tips of your fingers," he barked.

She stared at him in complete and utter shock like an idiot.

"Again," he ordered.

Evangeline turned back to the keys and returned her hands to the beginning of the song. She got five bars in this time before he stopped her again by grabbing her elbow and hoisted her arm up higher in the air.

"You are getting lazy. Keep your arms and wrists up and soft," he muttered.

She drew her arms up higher all while being completely baffled. It was bad enough that he'd struck her hand, but now he was grabbing her arm and manhandling her posture? She felt her spine stiffen as she prepared to chastise him for being so fresh.

"Well don't do that!" he remarked as he rolled his eyes and huffed like she'd just annoyed him again. He placed a finger on the top of her right shoulder and pushed it down.

His eyes narrowed at her as he caught her gaze. Surely she must look flustered and she hated the idea of appearing so weak in front of him. But she had never in her life been so manhandled by a servant.

"I thought that you said that you were perfectly adequate," he snorted.

Evangeline opened her mouth to protest that she _was_ perfectly adequate, but that he _was_ being a forward ruffian who needed to learn his place.

"Again!" he demanded as he looked away from her face and down at the keys expectantly.

Bewildered, uncertain, and just a tad bit defeated evangeline looked over at her snoring Aunt and determined that she was entirely alone in this fresh new Hell. Her jaw clicked shut as she glared down at the keys and tried again. This time he let her make it through the entire song. He nodded as she ended it softly.

"Better… but you have much still to learn," he stated evenly.

Evangeline stared up at him in wonder. Even his praises were thinly veiled insults. She reached her cool facade and slid it back into place.

"I am heartened to have met your minimal expectations, maestro," she said sarcastically in the sweetest voice that she could summon.

He looked down at her from the corner of his eye with a blank expression. "Now play it again."

She sighed and set her fingers to the keys as she started from the beginning. The rest of the lesson continued in this vein. If she slouched he pulled her shoulder back. If she was too tense he poked her arm. If her wrists got lazy and the heels of her palms touched the wood of the piano he smacked her hand and made her start from the beginning. By the end of their two hour session her hand smarted and she was sure that her upper arm would have a bruise from all of his poking. Honestly, he had the boniest fingers that she'd ever seen.

Still, her elderly Aunt snored through all of it.

Evangeline wanted to roll her eyes and stamp her foot and scream. None of her other tutors had ever treated her so indelicately.

It was a struggle to maintain her composure. But once she'd gotten her blank mask of indifference back into place she was reticent to let it go again. Why was it so bloody hard to keep her cool around him? He had managed to get under her skin like few others ever had before. She was not some young green girl who had never had a season! She was twenty-six for goodness sake. She'd weathered eight seasons in London. This summer would have been her ninth! Yet he made her feel like she was sixteen again and standing at the top of the staircase waiting for her name to be called for her presentation to society. Her stomach fluttered wildly and the sensation made her angry.

The notes faded away as the song ended. His eyes slid to her as his gaze tried to cut her down to the core when she didn't automatically begin playing again. How could he stand to listen to the same song over and over and over again? She smiled up at him falsely.

Erik's mouth quirked up at the corner at her in return as he shuffled through a stack of sheet music that had been set to the side. "How about something a little more challenging?" he teased as he placed a battered piece of sheet music on the piano's stand. Mozart's famed _A Little Night Music _if her German comprehension was any good.

She snorted and stared up at him with one quirked eyebrow. "You can not be serious. I can not play that." Indeed, her eyes roamed over the complicated mess of notes and she leaned away from it as it if was a snake. She didn't know a single person who could play Mozart's most difficult piece at full-speed.

"Move," he ordered rudely.

Evangeline glared at him but gathered up her skirts and rose up from the bench to lean against the lip of the piano while he settled himself in the center.

"You have murdered enough music for today," he jested as he cracked his knuckles and set his fingers to the keys.

And before she could think of a smart enough retort he began to play.

Evangeline fought to keep a neutral face as he played the lively, complicated song. Aunt Mabel snorted in her sleep from across the room, but continued snoring. How could the old woman sleep through so much noise? It would be highly entertaining if it hadn't been such an inconvenience to Evangeline at that moment.

She turned away from studying her Aunt's supine form in time to see that Erik had been staring her while she wasn't looking. His eyes met hers and his gaze never faltered. Most men would drop their eyes for being caught staring so brazenly. Who did this man think he was? Who _was_ this man?

The piece ended and he stared up at her as if he expected her to clap or say something. This man certainly did not need anymore encouragement.

"I fail to see how such a jaunty little tune can be called the music of the night. One would think that the night's music would be more… ephemeral," she confided absently.

For some odd reason he tensed and his gaze sharpened as his amber eyes turned piercing.

Evangeline took a half a step back as her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" she asked, honestly. He looked affronted. As if she'd just insulted his life's work. It's not like he was the composer. And she was allowed to have opinions about music even if she would never be a world-renowned pianist.

He seemed to gather himself and contain whatever deep, dark secret that she'd just accidentally stumbled upon. "Everyone is a critic," he lamented with an even voice as he added the sheet music back into the stack. He pretended to be indifferent and cool and calm as he organized the papers.

But Evangeline had seen the surprise in him and she liked to think that she knew him better by now. He wore masks just like hers- literally, as well as figuratively. They were cut from the same cloth and it grated her that he would not be easily maneuvered. Still, she thought that she could handle the challenge.

Aunt Mabel's snoring increased as the elderly woman startled awake.

"Oh, dear, I fell asleep again. Is the lesson over, now? Oh good, I'm hungry. Let's have our luncheon in the garden," the old woman decided for them all.

Evangeline moved over to the settee dutifully to help her old aunt rise. "Auntie, it is still raining outside," she reminded the old woman.

Aunt Mabel made a grand show of craning her head to look out the window at the dreary weather. "Ah! So it is. Well… that can not be helped. We shall eat in the conservatory then."

"Of course, Auntie. I shall meet you there after I change."

Aunt Mabel nodded and held her arm out expectantly for Erik to take up. He rose from the piano and let her slip her arm in his.

"You shall join us, of course, dear boy" Aunt Mabel added towards Erik.

Evangeline opened her mouth to protest before she thought better of it and smiled instead.

"Auntie, perhaps he would be interested in hearing about late Uncle George's safari adventures."

The look that Erik shot her way made Evangeline feel certain that he most certainly would not appreciate being forced to listen to such stories. She smiled as he glared at her over his shoulder while he led her elderly aunt from the room. Aunt Mabel had already begun the story of the first time that dear late Uncle George had caught Malaria while hunting lions in North Africa.

Evangeline grinned and rushed to her room to change.

By the time that she'd been undressed and redressed in her afternoon gown, a dark green gown with fewer petticoats and a much smaller bustle and sleeves that ended at her elbows, Erik and Aunt Mabel had already seated themselves at the small dining table that was set in the center of the lush greenhouse. Only Aunt Mabel called it the conservatory. Evangeline called it paradise. Everyone else simply called it the greenhouse.

Erik rose from his seat as she entered the room. He moved forward to help her with her chair. She sat slowly as he pushed it in smoothly on the uneven flooring of the garden. So he was a quick learner, then. Had Butler said something? Or perhaps even Aunt Mabel? She'd been known to say things rather bluntly before.

Evangeline glanced at Aunt Mabel who had a satisfied smirk on her face. She narrowed her eyes at the old woman, who steadily avoided her gaze in order to continue prattling on to Erik about safari adventures.

And the music tutor, bless his heart, was giving the old woman all of his attention as if her stories were the most fascinating topic in history that he'd ever heard.

Evangeline looked down at the spread of cut sandwiches and she felt her stomach rumble. She'd missed breakfast, after all. The crumbs on her two companions' plates told her that they'd already eaten while she had been changing. That suited her well enough. Reaching forward she pulled three small pieces of sandwich onto her plate and added a small bunch of grapes and a tangerine to her pile. She nibbled on the sandwiches and poured herself a glass of lemonade as Aunt Mabel began to regale Erik with tales of dear old late Uncle George's trips to Egypt and his misadventure with a sarcophagus and its contents.

She popped a red grape into her mouth and chewed as it burst, sweet and ripe, on her tongue. There was definitely a benefit to having such a large greenhouse on the property. The entire back of it was devoted solely to potted fruit trees and bushes and grape vines that grew along wooden trellises which had been delicately bolted into the now green, but once upon a time copper, frame.

Another sip of lemonade down and another sandwich triangle gone, Aunt Mabel changed gears to poor dear late Uncle George's war stories.

"Did you fight in the war, Erik? Is that why you wear the mask?" Aunt Mabel inquired impudently.

Evangeline, who had been taking a sip of lemonade at that exact moment, choked and sputtered and coughed as the lemonade traveled down the wrong pipe.

Erik sat back in his chair and looked between the two women nervously as if he wasn't sure who to address first, the rude Aunt Mabel or the choking Evangeline.

"Auntie, you can not say things so bluntly like that," Evangeline chided the old woman gently in a shocked voice between coughs.

"Poppycock! I am sixty-three years old and I will say what I please." Aunt Mabel considered the issue settled as she swiveled her attention back to Erik. The old woman quirked a gray eyebrow to show that her question was completely sincere and she expected an answer.

"Ah… no. It was an accident of birth… not circumstance," he answered hesitantly as he sat with his hands limp in his lap.

Aunt Mabel nodded sagely as if that explained everything.

Evangeline didn't think that it explained things at all, but she also wasn't about to embarrass the poor man any further. That would just be cruel. She closed her eyes and sighed dramatically. When she heard creaking she looked up to see that Aunt Mabel was standing up.

"Where are you going?" Evangeline called out incredulously when she noticed that the old woman had rounded the table and was headed towards the door now. "I'm not finished eating," Evangeline added petulantly.

Aunt Mabel waved a hand leisurely in the air without even bothering to glance backwards. "You hardly need my help to eat finger sandwiches, Eva. Besides, I am a tired old woman and these old bones are barking. Must be all this rain. It makes the rheumatism worse you know."

Evangeline's mouth hung open and she swiveled even further in her chair. "But you are my chaperone!" she called out in a last ditch effort to make her batty old Aunt understand the situation fully.

Aunt Mabel laughed a deep, barking laugh as she fled the greenhouse as fast as her crippled legs would carry her (which was not very fast at all). "And you're an impudent girl who is going to do what you are going to do regardless of whether I am there eating finger sandwiches or not."

Evangeline shot the greenhouse door a dirty look as it swung shut. She took a deep breath and swallowed down the scream that was threatening to rise up in her throat. Erik was completely silent beside her, and when she finally worked up the nerve to swivel back in her chair she saw that he was looking at her with a smug, satisfied look. His chin was propped in the heel of his hand, his elbow resting impolitely on the small dining table, mimicking how she often stood at the piano and stared at him while he played. He was mocking her with his posture and his eyes.

If she had less self control she'd blush, but Evangeline felt that tendril rising up and squashed it down with her practiced, icy look. But this only seemed to encourage him even more. His eyes were positively dancing with amusement as he stared at her.

Raindrops _pitter pattered_ on the greenhouse roof as they stared at one another.

Evangeline forced herself to relax in her seat, affecting an cool, collected ease. He was going to laugh at her, huh? She abandoned her last finger sandwich in favor of the tangerine. Its pitted, textured flesh was cool in her hand as she split its rind open with her small sharp knife with practiced ease.

She ignored Erik as she worked her fingers into the rind and slowly set the discarded orange peel on her plate.

When she'd freed the fruit from its rind completely she split the fruit in half. A trail of juice trickled down her hand as a finger pierced the membrane of one piece. She let her eyes find his, he was staring at her after all, as she brought that hand up to her mouth and licked the droplet from her skin. His nostrils widened and his jaw clenched as her pink tongue darted out and licked the trail of tangerine juice from her palm. When she stuck the juice stained finger into her mouth he looked away and she allowed herself a small smile of triumph before she popped a wedge of the fruit into her mouth for chewing. The clean, sweet fruit burst on her tongue as she chewed thoughtfully and considered what this all meant.

She had eaten half of the tangerine, slowly of course, before he spoke again.

"Does it ever stop raining?" he asked suddenly.

Evangeline tilted her head back to stare up at the transparent glass ceiling above them. Drops of rain sounded musically against the glass before rolling down the sloped ceiling and sides.

"It is the worst in the spring. It rains nearly daily. Sometimes the storms can wax and wane but last for days before there is a break from it," she answered truthfully.

Her answer seemed to irritate him as his jaw clenched with unspoken anger. She studied him curiously as she ate the rest of her tangerine.

"Why?" she asked. She had to know. Sure, no one really enjoyed the rainy English spring, but she'd never seen someone be so perturbed by it.

"My wagon was stuck in the mud a little ways from the house. I had to leave my things and make the rest of the journey on horseback. I would like to retrieve it all if it has not been washed away by now."

Evangeline reclined in her seat and stared at him unashamedly. "Our carriage will most likely not be able to make the journey if your wagon was stuck that badly. The back road that leads to the estate often floods out when the rains last this long in the spring. No one can come in or out when that happens. Once we have a day or two without the rain then we can have the cart dug out and retrieve your things. I'm sure that whatever possessions you are missing can be replaced in the meantime. Ask Butler for whatever you need. It is his job to furnish the male staff."

Erik glanced at her levelly as he cleared his throat. "My things are not so easily replaced as that. And I would prefer not to wear other men's clothing," he rebutted, unappreciative of her generosity.

Evangeline sighed and straightened up in her chair. She glanced up to the greenhouse roof and raised her arms above her head with her palms flat towards the ceiling in supplication.

"Clouds! I command you to stop raining," she yelled up at the heavens, startling him in his seat.

Thick, heavy rain drops pelted the glass ceiling. She pouted her lips and slumped into the chair as his startled eyes met hers. She grinned and shrugged her shoulders at him. "They didn't listen."

He stared at her like she was insane, which only made her laugh as she popped the last piece of tangerine in her mouth and chewed.

* * *

Evangeline looked at herself in the mirror for the fifth time that evening and wondered why she cared about her appearance so much tonight. She had never been one of those vain girls who preened for hours in front of a mirror. She didn't have a plethora of contraband cosmetics, just a little pot of rouge that she rarely touched. Her fingers fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve before reaching up to make certain that her dangling jade earrings were settled fully in her ears. Of all of her earrings these ones were her favorite. Mostly because they were large and her mother hated them the most.

Celeste had declared her to be perfect fifteen minutes ago and then left, yet here Evangeline stood fixing and re-fixing the lines of her gown and the cuff of her sleeve and the folds of her skirt. She paused and considered her reflection before she turned away from it in disgust and screwed her eyes shut.

The facts were these: Her mother was intent to marry her off to some boorish country lordling, or ship her off to a convent. She did not want to marry a boorish fop _or_ become a nun. Her father lacked the courage to save her from the slow death of a thousand paper cuts, so he would not be intervening. Her wayward brother was off who-knows-where, enjoying who-know's-company, and doing who-know's-what, and he was most certainly _not_ at home to help her make this horrid situation just a little bit better. Her crazy old Aunt Mabel had suddenly decided that her chaperone duties were not really needed (where was that attitude five years ago?) and the doddering old woman obviously had no desire to intervene either. The music tutor was being paid an exorbitant sum to teach her the piano skills that her mother intended to be Evangeline's matrimonial lure. And he showed no desire to leave, despite how much she poked or prodded or teased. And while she had a stash of funds at her disposal, there was no way that she could match a thousand pounds even if she gave him all of her jewelry too.

Tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill as her head felt sluggish and stupid. All she could think of was being handed over like a piece of luggage to some horrid fat old baron or a bunch of nuns who didn't even speak English. At the moment Evangeline wasn't sure with fate was worse.

Her chest constricted and she fisted her hands in her dark green embroidered skirts as she struggled to calm herself before she upset her breathing. She focused on slow, deep breaths in and out as she placed a hand on her stomach and felt the breaths going in and out. She focused on making them slower and deeper as she'd been taught when she was a child and she got overly excited.

Hastily she wiped the escaping tears away with the backs of her hand as she stared at her miserable reflection in the mirror.

Suddenly the violin came to mind. He'd liked it. More than he'd wanted to admit, which meant that it was important to him. Evangeline knew that it was special. It was a rare, prized instrument that had been in her family for a few generations. Perhaps it was worth a thousand pounds? Perhaps it was worth even more than that? A glimmer of hope welled within her and she latched onto it and used it to piece herself back together. She pinched her cheeks rosy to detract from her reddened eyes. If she hurried now then she wouldn't be too late for dinner.

Evangeline made the familiar path from her bedchamber to the parlor that led to the dining room. She opened the door in time to see Erik turn to face her. Her eyes scanned the sofas and settees that made up the sitting area, but her Aunt was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Aunt Mabel?" she inquired, confused. This was not at all what she'd expected.

"I am quite certain that I have no idea," he replied dryly.

Evangeline sighed at him and crossed her arms across her chest as she tapped her foot impatiently while they waited. Twenty minutes passed before Erik turned to face her irritably.

"I don't know about you, but finger sandwiches are not enough to last me until the morning. Shall we dine? Your Aunt can join us when she is ready."

Evangeline's stomach rumbled in response and she fought to keep the flush from creeping up her neck. She let her hands drop down by her sides as she shifted her weight from one slippered foot to the other.

"Alright," she acquiesced finally. "She hates the soup and salad courses anyways. She says that it is a waste of her short time left on Earth."

Erik nodded in agreement and held his arm out towards her.

Evangeline was startled for just a moment before she remembered her years of deportment training and stepped forward to lace her arm through his. She grabbed her dress' train with her free hand and followed him as he opened the dining room door instead of ringing the servant's bell to be let in.

She looked up at him curiously. He might be playing the gentleman, but clearly he had no experience in being waited upon. Perhaps that could work to her advantage? His ignorance of the inner workings of polite society might make him more likely to take her up on her unique proposition. Now she just had to figure out the timing. Obviously they would need to wait for the worst of the rain to stop. The road would be flooded out and nothing but mud for the next week or two at least. It always took forever to dry out and become passable at this time of year.

When his head angled down towards her she forced her gaze forward.

Erik helped her into her chair, then took his place opposite her. A moment later a footman appeared with a carafe of white wine. The young man poured both of their glasses then disappeared. Evangeline and Erik struggled awkwardly with not staring at one another.

Another footman appeared with the rolling cart holding the silver soup tureen of their first course. The man ladled both of their bowls with some sort of white bisque and then left, taking her Aunt's place setting with him.

Erik and Evangeline finished the first course quickly. She noticed that he'd only taken a few token sips of it and she wondered if his opinion of soup was the same as her Aunt's, or if it merely wasn't suited to his tastes. And then she chastised herself for caring. _He'll be gone in a week, maybe two at most._ She'd make them all eat soup for every meal if it meant that he'd leave quicker.

Evangeline set her spoon aside and sipped her wine as their bowls were taken away.

When another footman brought the cart with their vegetable course Evangeline raised her hand and stopped him.

"We are waiting for my Aunt for the third course."

The footman looked up at her surprised as he awkwardly held the cover to the roasted vegetables in the air. "I am sorry, my lady, but the dowager lady sent word that she would like to take her meal upstairs tonight. We have already sent her tray up to her."

Evangeline blinked at the man before she regained her composure. "I see… thank you for informing me."

As she leaned back in her chair she pulled her linen napkin from where it was folded on the table and snapped it open, settling it on her lap. The footman served them both as Evangeline took another sip of wine and tried her best to ignore Erik.

She speared a bit of roasted asparagus and began to eat as she contemplated her batty Aunt's latest stunt. Mother would kill Auntie if she knew what was happening right now. Mother would kill the both of them, actually. Gardener would probably need to dig three plots in the rose bushes. One for her, one for the music tutor, and one for dear old Aunt Mabel. With the glances of the foot men her way as they served there was no way that her mother would not eventually hear about this when she returned. _And I'll be blamed. Fantastic._

Evangeline's stomach tightened into knots as once again her tattered reputation would be smeared by no fault of her own. It was only a matter of time, now. Her deadline might be months away, but her own personal sword of damocles felt like it was dangling closer and closer to her exposed neck. She set her fork back down and picked her glass of wine back up and took a longer sip.

* * *

Evangeline stood in the dark hallway and swayed on the balls of her feet. She stared at the wall and tried to figure out exactly how she had gotten in this particular hallway. She'd intended to head to the west wing where she could enter their ridiculous but amazing three story library and climb up the circular staircase to the little access door that would let her out onto the roof. She needed to see the stars tonight while she drunkenly wept for her dark fate.

Instead, she was in the East wing by the portrait gallery and for the life of her she couldn't remember how she'd gotten there or why.

She wracked her brain and tried to push through the fog of wine that was clouding her thoughts. Ah! Yes, she'd remembered now that it was still raining and she had changed her course for her father's study. The roof might be a bad idea right now. It was slippery in the rain and she was drunk. But her father's study was in the East wing and father had the best liquor stashed away there. He thought that she didn't know, but she did. She knew that he kept it in the globe that was not just a globe. She and Freddie had snuck into it often enough when they were younger.

With her new course of action back on track she stumbled down the hall for her father's study. Sounds of violin playing pulled her attention away as she passed the music room.

And there he was! Her very own omen of misfortune. The dark cloud that hovered over her. Evangeline squinted in the dark as she leaned on the doorway for support. She'd watch him only for a moment while she waited for her head to stop spinning. There was a sofa in her father's study. She could lay down in there after she found the globe that was not really a globe and the bottles it concealed.

She sighed as his bow dragged across the strings and then suddenly he was whirling around and his Amber eyes latched onto hers in the dark. He glared at her and she couldn't take it any longer. She leaned the side of her face against the cool wood and let her facade drop. She couldn't keep it up any longer in this state. She should have never walked past the music room. She shouldn't have stopped to listen to him play. But it was all too late now.

When she opened her eyes again he was standing right in front of her and she took a half step back, startled, until her slipper twisted on the floor and she swayed sideways dangerously. He grabbed her by the upper arm and his long, bony fingers dug into her tender skin. He managed to inadvertently find the bruise that all of his poking earlier had given her and she hissed her disapproval at being so roughly manhandled by him.

"Let go of me," she ordered as she tried to wrench her arm free from his grip.

Erik merely narrowed his eyes at her. "If I let go of you then you'll fall and I do nott intend to get blamed for your recklessness."

Evangeline snorted. "Will'not," she retorted, her speech slurred from all of the wine. Short sentences seemed to be all that she was capable of at this moment.

He made a show of rolling his eyes at her as he steadied her against the doorway. Her free arm latched onto the wood as if it was her lifeline, and he finally released her when she stopped swaying.

She had a headache now from all the wine. Why had she drunk so much wine? She never drank this much. Oh yeah, this man was ruining her life.

"What do you know anyways," she sneered at him.

He looked at her incredulously, then made a show of looking her up and down. "I know that you are belligerently drunk right now," he retorted back sharply.

She shrugged. What did it matter? Let the whole household know. Even if he left tomorrow her fate was sealed now. She could see no way around it all. The maids and footmen would report that she'd been left alone with him for hours. If he left after that, then her mother would assume -correctly- that she'd someone managed to run him off. And then she'd be shipped off to Switzerland to become a nun.

Her sneer fell away as the weight of her terrible future settled onto her. Tears sprang to her eyes and suddenly she couldn't mask it, or hide it, or shove it down anymore. Her face crumpled and he stepped back from her like she'd attacked him as she leaned against the doorway and ground the palms of her hands into her weeping eyes. The tears fell anyways. She just couldn't contain them anymore.

"What… what do… you know… anyways?" she repeated between sobs as teardrops fell and stained the delicate silk of her dress.

She sobbed and let the tears fall down her face messily. This was not the carefully crafted crying of manipulation, this was anguish and she was glad that he had to witness it since he'd had a hand in it. This strange man who was not a servant or a noble. What the hell was he? And what did he know of her struggles?

He didn't know anything about her or her problems!

Suddenly it all clicked into place. She stopped crying and her head snapped up to search his own. "Oh my God, you don't even know what you've done by accepting this damned job," she accused him. He seemed shocked that she'd cursed. Good! She liked shocking him.

"I am certain that you plan to inform me," he replied warily as if she was a coiled snake prepared to strike at him.

She shook her head and stared up at the ceiling while she tried to blink the tears away. She hated crying. It was such a weakness when it was genuine.

"There's no point. It doesn't even matter anymore. If you'd left the night that you arrived or even the next morning then… perhaps… but not now. It wouldn't even matter now. I've been thinking, and thinking, and thinking, and she's just solidly outmaneuvered me this time. I can't find a way around it all anymore. She always gets what she wants in the end. It's so typical! And it all just makes me want to... want to scream!" she said, practically yelling.

Erik grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her into the music room. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Do you want to wake the whole house, you little fool?" he berated her.

She whirled back to see the closed door, then turned to look at him in shock.

"You really just don't understand anything, do you?" she asked again with wide eyes as she stared up at his stupid, baffled face.

"Enlighten me," he seethed between clenched teeth.

"You are the nail in my coffin, sir," she answered between hiccups as she glared up at him.

"You try my patience, little girl," he cautioned her with thinly veiled anger.

Being condescended to sparked her anger. Little girl? How dare he!

"You are here, sir, because I am twenty-six and if I fail to attract a husband at the end of the season then I'll be shipped off to a Swiss convent. You," she said as she gestured up and down wildly between them, "are here to polish me up so that I can attract the highest bidder. As if I am.. am… a cow!" she finished as she swayed in place.

Erik took a step backwards from her, which only made her want to take a step forward in response. She rocked on her toes as she did so. He reached a hand out as if to steady her, but when she kept her balance he didn't touch her.

"I will be bought and sold like property, and then _my_ life will be over," she whined as the tears threatened to spill again. Why did it feel like the walls were closing in around her? Panic welled within her as her future played out over and over again in her head.

"Isn't... that… typical? For the nobility? Aren't your marriages usually arranged?" he stammered.

Evangeline stared up at him, her mouth opening and closing as she blinked up at him. "Oh yes, you're right, thank you for that edification, sir! That makes it all better now! It is tradition, so that is how it must be done. Never mind that perhaps the cattle are unwilling to be sold. Their consent hardly matters. They are, after all, only women," she retorted with acid as she raised a hand to her pounding head and fisted her fingers in her hair.

"That's rather dramatic," he interjected.

She fisted her other hand on one hip and swayed. "Is it? Let me enlighten _you_ then, good sir. If I am lucky enough to evade a husband who will beat me in the privacy of our bedroom, then surely I must suffer through his numerous infidelities. It is a man's way, after all. It is how it is done. Mistresses in London, and Paris too, pregnant chambermaids, and bastards filling up the kitchen, and the like. Or perhaps I will be doubly lucky and evade both, only to die in childbirth one day after giving him five or six children first. Perhaps, by then, I'll be glad for the sweet release of death's embrace. But right, now, in this moment, that is not what I want! No one has ever even asked me if I want to be married or have children. The cow's opinion hardly matters. I am, after all, just a finely bred broodmare with an impeccable pedigree waiting patiently on the auction block to be _sold_."

Erik sighed as if he was put out by her antics. It made her feel foolish for yelling at him like he was the one doing this to her, but then she remembered that he was the one who was polishing her up for sale and her foolishness turned back into anger and doubled. She was much more comfortable with anger anyways.

"Can you please stop referring to yourself as livestock?" he pleaded in soothing tones as he held his hands out to her and advanced slowly.

She stared at his hands but didn't evade his grasp in time as he grabbed her by the elbow again and manhandled her over to the settee. The backs of her knees hit the velvet covered cushion and she sank onto it in reflex.

Erik stepped back from her until his back was pressed against the room's only window. The storm raged outside. The rain was at its worst now. Good! Let the storm rage. Perhaps the whole damned house would be carried away in a flood and then her awful mother would never find her again.

Evangeline fisted her hands deeper into her hair until her fingers found one of the pins that had been digging into her scalp all bloody evening. She ripped it free, not caring that a few strands of hair came with it. She didn't feel that sting right now as she pulled all of the dreadful pins out of her hair and tossed them haphazardly onto the sofa. Her hair tumbled down her back in waves and the tension in her head lessened.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a hint of trepidation from across the room.

"My head hurts," she whimpered as she rubbed her temple.

Rain pattered against the window and she felt her anger fading back down into whatever pit it had crawled out of. Sadness took its place, and then she started weeping again. She couldn't help it. This was what she had been reduced to.

She wasn't sure how long she cried for but it felt like hours. Somehow she'd even managed to maneuver herself against the arm of the sofa. She cried giant, wracking sobs as she buried her face into the sofa's velvet. Her body shook with the effort, and suddenly the tinge of panic that she'd warded off earlier came back tenfold. She was suffocating from it. Her life was over and she was merely waiting for the blade to swing. And even worse! She had to offer up her neck for the slaughter! It was all too much. She couldn't pretend to be brave without Freddie here to make her laugh, or lie to her and tell her that it would all work out. But she was here, and he was not here, and she was drowning without him by her side to steady her.

And then her chest felt constricted and her lungs clamped down and she was suffocating for real this time. _Asthma… what a stupid way to die._ She bolted upright on the sofa and was startled to see that the music teacher was still there staring out the window at the storm. He'd been so silent that she was sure that he'd left ages ago.

And he just stood there staring out the window at the storm. Didn't he notice that she was dying on the sofa? Her breath shuddered through her in tight wheezes as the pounding in her head intensified. She reached back on instinct to find the ties on her bodice. If she could just undo the laces on her dress and corset then perhaps she could get a little more air and then the attack would go away on its own. But Celeste had double knotted the strings and tucked them inside the dress like she always did. Evangeline's fingers fumbled and failed to find the knot.

Her wheezing must have been loud enough for him to hear now because he turned from the window and stared at her. She leaned heavily against the arm of the sofa, suddenly exhausted from the effort of sitting up right.

Her lungs were tight in her chest and her breathing constricted even more in her panic as she tried to coach herself to take slow deep breaths. But she was far too drunk, and Freddie wasn't here to help her focus.

And Erik was standing there across the room staring at her warily now as if this was some new trick of hers. He didn't know that she was really dying now. She couldn't breathe. No air came into her lungs as she gasped and slowly suffocated on that stupid music room settee. Her headache pounded until even the pain couldn't keep her conscious any longer.

The last thing she could rationalize was her face growing cold as the panic consumed her and her lungs shriveled up inside her heaving chest.


	7. Chapter Six

Erik watched Evangeline as she scrambled on the couch with a mixture of trepidation and wary unease. What new manipulation was this? The girl was a better actress than even he had assumed. He'd heard of women swooning for attention, but there was nothing romantic or sensual or delicate about this jerky limbed struggle on the velvet sofa.

And then the color drained from her face and her already milky smooth skin turned even paler. Her lips and cheeks lost their color. By the time he strode across the room towards her he could see the faintest tinge of blue around her mouth.

His eyes widened in surprise as he lunged forwards to grab her about her middle as she slid to the side and nearly toppled off of the sofa. Whatever this was, he saw that it was real now. And she was dead weight in his arms and barely gasping now as he slid her slowly to the floor in a puddle of her skirts.

Erik propped her as upright as he could at this awkward angle as he sat on the floor with her. It was easy enough to pull her onto his lap and cradle her against the hollow of his body, her legs dangling over his own. Her breathing was nothing but a shallow, wheezing pant and his alarm grew when he saw her wide, frightened eyes droop half lidded with fatigue.

So he did the only thing that he could think of in that moment, he began to sing.

Long ago he'd learn to hypnotize with his voice. He'd honed the skill in his formative years as a gypsy captive, then fine tuned it in his travels around the globe. It had saved his neck more times than he could count in Persia, and he was ashamed to admit that he'd even used it on his poor Christine. So he thought that it might work to ease whatever distress the girl had gotten herself into. He didn't like the color of her mouth or the blank expression of her face as he cradled her in his lap. _She should be yelling at me or striking me on my chest for being so forward as to pull her into my lap, not half-breathing and limp._

He liked her fire although he'd never admit it to her. But mostly he just didn't want to have to watch another bratty daughter die right in front of him. He hadn't been able to help Luciana when she'd fallen to her death off that crumbling balcony in Italy. But perhaps he could do something for this one now.

Erik grabbed her pointed chin between two fingers and tipped her head back so that her flat, vapid eyes were pointed at him. The hypnosis always worked better if his subject was looking at him.

As he cradled her against his body and sang with his angel's voice he saw in the dim lamp light of the room that her eyes weren't blue at all, they were grey.

Slowly, as he sang to her, her breathing deepened. The wheezing passed and the blue tinge around her mouth faded back to rosy pink. He continued singing as she struggled weakly against his chest. He jostled her higher up in his embrace now that she was less dead weight in his arms. Her palm pressed flat against his chest, but didn't strike, as her fingers clutched at his lapel instead. When the rosy hue returned to her lips and cheeks and her pale, grey eyes began to leak tears down her face he knew that she would be alright.

It seemed that whatever strange spell had just come over her was finished now.

Erik let her chin go and was surprised when she leaned forward and buried her face into his rumbling chest as his song faded and the music room grew silent again. When he felt his shirt dampen with her tears he pulled her tighter against him and allowed himself a moment of weakness as he threading his fingers through her golden hair and cradled her head to his chest.

They stayed like that for quite a while until her breathing eventually leveled out. When Eric repositioned her on his lap he saw that she had fallen asleep at some point. She looked so fragile as she slept with her hand fisted in his jacket's lapel. Her delicate face with her narrow pointed chin and high cheekbones looked more carefree and younger when it was relaxed like this in slumber. She looked more vulnerable than he'd ever noticed before.

Her skirts rustled as he set one arm behind her knees and stood, bringing her up with him. She fit easily in his arms despite her tall and willowy frame.

Erik groaned. What to do now? Did he return her to her rooms and risk a servant seeing them together, or should he settle her on one of the house's many sofas and leave her be? _Surely none of the male servants would take advantage of her sleeping form... would they?_ Which would cause her the least scandal? And why did he care? Erik glanced about the quiet, empty music room and felt completely lost and out of his depths.

"Evangeline..." he called out and then he paused when realized that he'd never said her name out loud before. He jostled her in his arms and watched as her eyes as they fluttered open. Her sleepy grey eyes found his as he changed his grip on hers. Good grief but the girl had a lot of skirt. Her bustle was currently poking him in the ribs as he tried to keep his grip on her.

"What?" She slurred as she looked up at him in confusion. Her expression would have been comical if she weren't suddenly becoming heavy in his arms. He couldn't carry her around forever. He needed to find somewhere to put her down so that she could sleep off all of this blasted wine. Foolish chit.

"Where is your room?" He prodded as he carried her towards the door and wrestled it open with one hand. The hallway was empty and quiet. Good. At least they had that going for them.

When she didn't answer him right away he looked down at her and saw that she was asleep again.

"Evangeline..." he called out a little louder as he jostled her awake again.

"What?" she grumbled in an irritated whine.

"Where is your bedchamber?" he questioned her through gritted teeth.

She made a soft noise of protest and looked up at him with a puzzled frown.

"You're presumptive!" she chided him sternly as she smacked his chest with her palm. "Just because you sang me a pretty song doesn't mean that I've invited you into my bed," she slurred as she wiggled in his grip.

Erik gritted his teeth and was just about ready to drop her back down onto the sofa, wash his hands of her, and call it an evening.

"The presumption is all yours, you silly little girl. I mean to return you to your chambers, quietly, since you are too piss drunk to do it yourself. I for one don't intend to get caught cavorting with you at night, alone, since I'm quite certain that I'd be the one who got all of the blame. I've had enough of being chased by pitchfork wielding mobs for one lifetime," he hissed.

Evangeline made a noise in the back of her throat, the meaning of which he couldn't even begin to decipher.

He rolled his eyes and hoisted her slipping form higher in his arms.

"For God's sake, woman, focus," he demanded irritably.

Evangeline threw her arm around his neck in silent response. Erik hoisted her up higher in his arms. Ah, that was better. It was far easier to carry her this way.

"Your room?" He reiterated crossly.

His temper was close to breaking. If she didn't answer him now then he'd simply dump her on the floor right now and swim back to his cart and luggage if he had to. Blast the seemingly never ending rain and this annoying woman who fit into his arms and made him want to laugh. Did she have any idea how irritating she was? _I should save myself the trouble of her and leave tonight. _

"South wing, second floor," she murmured legibly this time as she buried her face back into the crook of his neck. Her loose, tumbling hair smacked him in the face and the scent of lavender invaded his senses.

Dear God, even her hair smelled nice. His stomach clenched in automatic response to the feel of a beautiful, nice smelling woman clinging to him. He was only a man after all. Erik pursed his lips and blew the worst of her perfumed hair away from his face. She merely snuggled deeper against him. He cursed himself silently for being such a fool even as his grip on her tightened.

Erik carried her out into the empty hallway and he looked left first, and then right. The South wing… right... now which way was that?


	8. Chapter Seven

Evangeline awakened to the burning sensation of bile rising up in her throat. She had just enough warning to scramble up and grab the chamber pot from under her bed before she vomited. She knelt on the cold wooden floor as the mixture of bile and wine rose up out of her, and she retched violently until there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up.

Celeste tutted at her and pulled her long hair back from her face as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. And then there was a cup of fresh clean water being placed in her other hand. She took it gratefully and rinsed her mouth out and spat into the bowl before she took a long sip and swallowed it down. It tasted like heaven to her sour stomach.

"Not so fast! You'll make yourself sick again" Celeste chided her like a mother hen.

Evangeline moaned and shoved the bowl aside. The sunlight that was streaming through the windows made her pounding headache worsen. She was about to ask Celeste to shut the curtains when the sunlight dimmed and the rain began again. Would it rain every single day this week? She longed to go out into the gardens. But that would have to wait until the weather was more hospitable. There was no enjoying it in all this rain.

She groaned and rubbed her pounding head.

"Ugh… what happened?" she asked but wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. She felt like she was dying.

Celeste spirited the basin away into the water closet, then returned with a wet towel. Evangeline took a smaller sip of the water before setting it aside in order to take the dampened towel and wipe her face. Her maid leaned against the bedpost and looked at her with a cheeky grin.

"Your new tutor brought you back last night. I told you that he was handsome, no? And so mysterious! Oh it is just like one of my novels," Celeste crooned happily.

Evangeline glowered at the delighted maid. This most certainly did not feel like one of the girl's silly Gothic romance novels at all. Celeste remained oblivious of her mistress' sour disposition.

"A little less noise, please," Evangeline begged as her headache intensified. She rubbed circles into her temples.

"And shut the drapes. I have a headache, and I shall spend the day in bed," she ordered.

Celeste pouted but did as she'd been told after helping Evangeline climb back under the warm covers. The maid left and shut the door behind her with a _click_.

She drank the rest of her water down, then flopped onto her belly. Burying her face in the down feather pillow, she screamed into it as she remembered exactly how foolish she had been last night.

Evangeline cringed into her pillow as she replayed last night's conversation over and over again in her head. She'd made a complete and utter fool of herself. She'd told him _everything_. And then she'd cried on him like a little girl after one of her asthma episodes. Vaguely she remembered his voice pulling her out of the panic. At the time it had felt like being rescued from drowning. Now it felt… well... actually she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Grateful, of course, because he'd possibly saved her life. Embarrassed, because he'd seen her at a huge moment of weakness and she hated being weak in front of others. But there was something else there too. She remembered the sound of his voice. Even just the memory of it now made her shiver. But she couldn't remember the lyrics to his song. He'd stopped his singing once she'd become lucid enough to understand him. She rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball as she wished that the pounding in her head would stop. There was no helping it, she woul be utterly useless today.

Reaching down to find the edge of the blankets, Evangeline threw them up over her head and tried to fall back asleep.


	9. Chapter Eight

Erik glared out the window at the rain. It really just never stopped raining here. How did they live in such an inhospitable and miserable environment? The music room was empty now except for him. The girl's elderly Aunt had already come and gone. The woman didn't seem too terribly surprised that Evangeline hadn't shown up for that day's lesson, although he was certain that there was no way that the old woman knew about last night's events already. The woman had made polite, idle conversation about dinner plans and music, and then at her insistence he'd played for her a little to pass the time.

When the lesson time had lapsed she'd quietly left him to enjoy the music room alone. Erik had politely declined her offer for lunch. He had no patience for more safari stories today. Thanks to that foolish girl he'd gotten very little sleep, and while he relied on less sleep than most he did require at least a few hours every night.

Every time he'd shut his eyes he'd smelled the perfume of her hair or felt the Phantom ghosting of her waist beneath his hands. Rain poured down heavier now than it had this morning, and there seemed little hope now that he would be retrieving his things in the near future. But did he really want to leave so soon anyways? After all, how often would he get the chance to play a Stradivarius? It was the opportunity of a lifetime. They sold for such outrageous sums, and there were so few of them in playable condition.

And a thousand pounds for a few months of work was easy money. Perhaps he could even afford to buy out the other tenants in his building? The privacy would be nice, and he could tear down some walls and make improvements to the place.

Erik stared out at the rain clouds in the distance and was lost to his thoughts as the metronome that sat atop the piano ticked away in the empty room.


	10. Chapter Nine

Evangeline was glad that her paradise was empty that afternoon. No one else ever came the greenhouse, which she was grateful for, because it was one of her favorite places to think. She could relax and let her carefully constructed facade slip away amongst the plants and quiet because there was no one else there to watch her. And if the gardener came around to tend to the plants and saw her there enjoying her work then he would quietly leave and let her enjoy her solitude.

She tied the old work apron around her waist and retrieved her small shears from the pocket. Every Saturday, regardless of the weather, she came to the greenhouse to choose the flowers for the dining table centerpiece. It was just something that she started doing one day as a young child, and over the years it had become her favorite weekly tradition.

Evangeline moved through the greenhouse as she considered colors and textures and which flowers were ready for cutting. After twenty minutes of deliberation she settled upon blush colored roses in varying shades of pink and peach, large, spikey burgundy dahlias, silvered lambs ears, and lots of wild green foliage. The overall effect was wild and charming and just looking at it all bundled together made her feel a little bit better.

She was just trimming the ends of the flowers so that they would stand at the correct heights in the vase when the door to the greenhouse opened. She'd expected to see her Aunt when she turned around, so she was surprised when the music tutor approached her instead via the winding path through the foliage. He held a wayward leaf of a potted ficus tree out of the way, he was much taller than her (so he was in real danger of being slapped in the face by it) as he made his way towards her work station.

Well it was too late now to pretend that she hadn't seen him in his approach. She'd been staring at him for far too long now. Evangeline set the shears aside. She was finished trimming the arrangement anyway and now she was just stalling.

"You did not come to your lesson today," he said evenly in place of a polite greeting. It could not be said that the man was indirect. He said what he meant regardless of its rudeness. It would have been a commendable trait if he wasn't a servant, and if he wasn't directing it at _her_.

Evangeline stared at him for a moment before she looked away. She pretended to fiddle with the flowers on the table before her.

"I hardly think that you require an explanation for why that might be," she said, trying to interject an air of icy calmness into her voice. Why was it so difficult, now? She'd always been able to keep a tight rein on her emotions before. So why was her heart pounding in her throat and her stomach churning?

His eyes were boring into her while she was trying to steadfastly ignore him. She'd used her silence to dismiss servants before. Most took the hint after just a few moments. But he didn't budge. What an infuriating man. He just continued to stare at her as she fiddled with the flowers, arranging and rearranging them in the vase.

"My time is not to be wasted. I will see you promptly at ten tomorrow," he ordered her regally.

Evangeline let her eyes rise up to meet his as she prepared to tell him exactly what he could do with his expectations. But then his amber eyes locked onto hers and she felt her stomach flip flop unexpectedly. The effect was disconcerting and her icy, calm mask faltered for just a moment. Lingering effects of last night's wine perhaps? She hoped so. Her mouth ran dry and her sharp retort died on her tongue. He stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face as she struggled to find something to say. She'd never been struck speechless against her will before.

Finally she gathered her composure. "I hardly think that-"

"-I expect you to arrive on time from here on out," he interrupted. And then he'd turned around and left without being dismissed.

Evangeline furrowed her brow and watched him as he strode away from her. Normally she might have called out a particularly cutting remark to his back in order to show him that she was not his to boss around, and that he did not give orders to his superiors. But again, the cold words died on her tongue and all that she was left with was the vague feeling that he was winning their little game. And Evangeline did not like losing. She didn't like it at all.


	11. Chapter Ten

Erik pulled his pocket watch out from within the front pocket of his borrowed coat. He'd worn the same suit for three days now, and it was truly beginning to grate on him. He'd never been a particularly vain man (because realistically how could he be) but he'd always prided himself on keeping a tidy and neat appearance. If this blasted rain would simply cease, then he could go out and retrieve his things. It would be nice to be back in his own comfortable and familiar clothing. And he really did not care for relying upon the charity of others.

She was ten minutes late.

He scowled at his pocket watch as the seconds hand made its lap around the dial and time marched on. At fifteen minutes past ten, on the dot, he heard her heels as they _clicked_ on the wooden floor just outside of the music room. Was the silly girl late on purpose? She truly had no idea that she was trying his patience, and that she was in severe danger of getting on his last nerve. If she continued this little game then she might force his hand into doing something quite unpleasant for the both of them.

When she sailed into the music room he had to force himself to remain impassive as he lounged nonchalantly against the piano. Dear God, he hadn't known that she could get any prettier. He was not prepared for this at all. But the cream and ice blue lacy dress that she was wearing made her look absolutely angelic like her namesake. The fates were cruel indeed to put such a creature in his path. Thank goodness that she had the personality of a viper. Internally, he flinched at that thought as he was reminded of her moment of desperation the other night. She'd been entirely innocent and vulnerable as she'd clung to him and cried. She was a decent actress, but he was certain that those tears had been quite real. But this cold, hard creature before him right now seemed like an entirely different person. He was left to wonder which Evangeline was the real one.

Outwardly, he was as calm and collected as he could be. Internally, he was reeling as he struggled for control. _For God's sake man, get a grip._ What would Nadir say if the old man knew that Erik had been reduced so low by a pretty little face with a smart mouth?

As she entered the room and opened her mouth to speak he smiled at her wickedly and held out a packet of sheet music towards her. He didn't want to hear her excuses. He knew that she'd arrived late on purpose. But would she appreciate his punishment? _Probably not._ He wanted to laugh, but he couldn't, or he would give it all away before it had even begun.

She took it from him warily as she assessed him with a keen eye. Erik managed to keep his posture relaxed and his face neutral and as pleasant as it could look while it was half hidden under his white leather mask.

"Our lesson for the day," he informed her, putting a little extra honey in his voice. He was wildly pleased when he saw the faintest stiffening of her shoulders in response.

Her eyes narrowed at him as she glanced between him and the pieces of sheet music. He enjoyed watching her as she read the title and scanned the lines. When she groaned, he couldn't keep the wicked smile from his face. With a practiced flourish he sat at the piano bench as if it was a throne and he was the king. He was amused as she sat primly beside him on the bench and placed the pages of sheet music upon the piano.

Evangeline set her fingers to the opening bar and he was heartened to see that she'd at least learned _something_ in the short amount of time that he'd been teaching her. She kept the heels of her hands from resting on the piano's wood, and her wrists were soft and fluid as she played. He wasn't surprised when she stumbled on the bridge. It was a difficult piece even for most pianists and Evangeline was not much more than a proficient beginner. He'd sought to humble her with this song and he wondered if it was working. The expression on her face made him think that it was. When she made a particularly jarring mistake he stopped her.

"Your left hand is too slow for your right. Try it again but this time play only the left so that you may get a feel for it," he instructed her softly.

When she did as he said without complaint he looked at her warily from the corner of his eye. What trap was this? Normally she'd be making rude comments or sarcastic remarks by now. Surely he hadn't humbled her so thoroughly, had he? For some odd reason he found that he liked a complacent Evangeline even less than a saucy one.

The music lesson continued along this similar vein for the next hour and a half. Erik felt his silent anger growing with each and every minute that ticked by. Where was her fire? That spark that had danced wildly as she teased him mercilessly? It was strange that he should miss it now when it had done nothing but irritate him before. Well, that wasn't completely true. It had amused him as well if he was being honest. True, she'd a little progress in her playing today but it would be a long and grating summer indeed if this kept up.

* * *

At dinner that night Erik noticed that Evangeline had changed her clothing yet again. What was the point of all of that? It seemed like a rather useless waste of one's time. And it's not like she'd done anything to dirty her dress from that morning. What was wrong with that morning's dress?

Erik felt his throat go dry as he really took her in and when he tried to speak his tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth. He thought that she'd been fetching in pale blue and cream lace. But she was even lovelier in this off-the-shoulder gown with its elaborately embroidered gold trimming. Was it green, or was it blue, or some indeterminable shade in between? He was sure that the particular hue had a name, although it escaped him in that moment as he tried not to stare at her like an uncouth boy. For the first time since he'd met her he saw her now without long sleeves or a high neckline. The short, off-the-shoulder straps of her gown left the smooth, creamy expanse of her decolletage and lithe arms on display. And her hair tumbled down her back in ringlet curls instead of her typical intricate updo.

Aunt Mabel was asleep in her chair, as usual, but the old woman awakened as soon as Evangeline entered the room. The whole thing was entirely suspicious to Erik, who now wondered if the old woman feigned being asleep whenever it suited her needs.

The old woman smiled at Evangeline and the two exchanged short pleasantries until the matron tugged on a little velvet rope that dangled from the ceiling. A moment later the dining room doors opened and the butler was helping Aunt Mabel to her feet and escorting her into the dining room.

Erik tried to swallow over the lump in his throat as he held his arm out for Evangeline to take ahold. Her arm slipped easily into his, and he was grateful that the material of his jacket was thick. He wasn't sure what he might do if he felt her warm skin next to his.

* * *

After dinner Aunt Mabel requested that Erik play more music for them. He inclined his head and murmured nonsense pleasantries of agreement. He wanted to play the Stradivarius again anyways, so what did it matter if he had an audience?

The trio made their way to the music room and only aunt Mabel seemed surprised when he bypassed the piano to take up the violin instead.

"Oh!" the old woman exclaimed. "I was not aware that you played the violin as well. How delightful. My late husband George was a hobbyist violinist, you know," she murmured. Apparently she had forgotten that they'd already discussed this.

Erik fine tuned the instrument as the ladies settled themselves onto the sofa.

"I play seven instruments, actually," he informed them, feeling a bit proud.

"My goodness, I had no idea. Well, we are honored to hear you play for us," the elderly woman added kindly.

Evangeline was strangely quiet as she sat there on the sofa with her hands folded delicately in her lap. Her golden hair shone brightly in the dim lamp light and she held herself so still and prim and proper.

Erik set the violin to the hollow of his neck. As he wrapped his slim fingers around the strings and set them into place he began to play.

One song melded into another as he enjoyed the experience of playing such an amazing instrument. Under his skilled fingers it sang and together he and the violin soared into the heavens. When he came back down to Earth he opened his eyes saw that Aunt Mabel had left them at some point in the evening. He glanced at the clock and noticed that over an hour had passed since he'd placed the violin to his neck. When the music was good like that he often lost track of time in such a manner. The violin tapped against his thigh as he relaxed his arms and enjoyed the familiar ache of playing.

"I have never seen someone lose themselves so completely while playing before," she admitted softly from the sofa.

"It does not occur every time that I play," he admitted in reply.

"It does whenever you play the Stradivarius," she remarked insightfully.

He glanced at her for a moment before moving to replace the violin in its glass case.

"It's a very fine instrument," he surmised with a touch of envy in his voice.

She was silent, and when he turned around and glanced at her he saw that she appeared to be considering her words.

"My great-great-grandfather won it in a game of cards in 1785. He was not even a musician, he merely loved the thrill of gambling. In fact, he nearly gambled the family to ruin. We were very fortunate that he did not lose in the end, because he had bet the estate as his own collateral," she told him quietly.

"That was very lucky, indeed," Erik replied, a little surprised that she had told him what he assumed was a family secret.

"He was a foolish man," she admitted sternly.

"Men often are," he joked dryly.

She chuckled softly and the sound of it stirred something deep within him. He realized that he would like to hear her laugh more often, and the thought surprised him.

"That's very true. What would the men do without us women there to guide them?" she chided with a gentle, facetious tone.

He inclined his head towards her. "Surely we would perish," he murmured. And she laughed again.

"Truthfully though, I am glad that it seems to bring you so much joy. It was never thoroughly appreciated here before you arrived. And it seems like such a waste to lock it away for viewing only," she remarked.

Erik merely nodded in return.

"I never said thank you, by the way. For the other night, I mean…" she said hesitantly. Her voice wavered with emotion.

He was at a loss for what to say. How did one reply to such a thing? He'd never been in the life saving business before. Usually it was quite the opposite, actually.

Before he could think of some response she rose from the sofa and gathered up the train of her skirts in one hand.

By the time she had reached the doorway he'd finally gathered up his courage to voice his reply.

He placed a hand against his stomach and gave a little half bow in her direction. "Consider me your obedient servant, _mademoiselle_."

Evangeline placed one hand on the door frame as she looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Obedient?" she questioned coyly, her voice betraying her amusement. "Oh, I think not. But I appreciate it all the same. You saved my life, and I won't forget that."

He opened his mouth to protest, to say that he had not done anything particularly heroic and that anyone would have helped her in such a situation.

But she continued before he could get a word in edgewise.

"And… servant?" she murmured softly.

She made a great show of looking him up and down before her eyes met and held his in the flickering gas light of the music room. She laughed again, her voice husky and electrifying.

"I doubt that very much," she whispered. And then Evangeline smiled that sly little grin that made her cheek dimple on one side.

He smiled at her conspiratorially in reply. And there it was! Her saucy attitude. Yes, he liked this version better. The sad, meek girl from today's lesson had been unsettling. He would be the butt of every one of her jokes if it only made her laugh that way and grin at him like that again. Her smile spread a trail of warmth inside of him. He'd forgotten how wonderful it was to feel this way about something… anything.

"Goodnight, Evangeline," he said instead of a proper response.

She seemed surprised, and he wondered what misstep he'd just committed. She glanced away for a moment and when her eyes returned to his he could have sworn that there was a faint blush staining her cheeks.

"Goodnight, Erik," she whispered in return.

And then she left, and he was staring at an empty hallway as the sound of her heels struck against the wooden floors and echoed down the hall.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Evangeline stepped into her bedroom and smiled vaguely at her maid who had stayed up to wait for her. Celeste rose from where she'd been sitting on the cozy reading spot on the window seat and began to help Evangeline undress. With the dress and corset off Evangeline could finally breathe again. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as Celeste helped her out of the mountain of petticoats and bustle.

"You were right," Evangeline muttered softly with the ghost of a little smile on her lips.

Celeste collected the earrings and necklace in her outstretched hand. The maid's brow quirked slyly.

"That he is handsome, and charming, and mysterious?" the girl replied with a cocky, pleased voice.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at the impudent girl playfully, and then she laughed.

"That he is French," Evangeline admitted.

Both girls laughed, and then Evangeline was freed from her stockings and garters and heels and then she was slipping into the soft comforts of her plush bed. Evangeline fell asleep while listening to the sounds of crickets as they chirped outside of her window. She was just glad that it had finally stopped raining.

* * *

Evangeline awakened for her morning's music lesson with a sense of excitement for the first time that week. She chalked it up to the fact that she missed her brother dearly, and that Erik simply reminded her a little of Freddie, which only made her miss her brother even more. That was all it was, surely. So there was no more sense in reading into it any further.

Celeste helped her dress quickly into the blue and yellow striped gown that Evangeline favored for morning social calls. Evangeline's hair was divided and braided, and then woven into a complicated knot at the base of her neck. Crystal tipped hair pins were added to keep it all in place.

By the time that she had made it down to the music room she was three minutes early so she stopped short to admire the portraits that adorned the walls of the south wing hallway. There were quite a lot of pastoral landscapes with sheep here and she wondered which of her ancestors had liked sheep enough to adorn an entire hallway with repetitious scene after scene of the beasts.

Her Aunt Mabel was nowhere to be seen in the music room. Apparently the old woman had completely given up the charade of chaperone duties since Evangeline's parents were not in residence for the summer. Still, Evangeline knew that she still had to be cautious. Servants were terrible gossips and her mother had a knack for sniffing out any of Evangeline's misdeeds. And her missteps never went unpunished, either. Only Freddie was afforded that particular luxury as the heir and eldest son who could do no wrong.

Erik was already seated at the piano when she entered, and a stack of music sheets were set out on top of the baby grand piano. She joined him quickly on the bench and tried to ignore the tumbling feeling in her stomach when he glanced at her. Honestly, she really needed to get a better grip on herself. She was not some naive, young girl who had never met a man who wasn't a relative. It wouldn't do to let him know that she'd begun to enjoy her lessons ever since they'd had that moment of mutual understanding when he'd called her by her given name without permission.

"I thought that I should allow you to pick your pieces for today. I find that students learn quicker when they are interested in the songs themselves," he told her.

She met his eyes and nodded quickly as he slid the stack of sheet music towards her. Evangeline shuffled through them until she spotted one which had always been a favorite of hers. It was a simple piece that was easily learned, and while it would not impress anyone who was a true pianist, it was lovely and she always enjoyed playing it. She set her selection aside then watched as he moved the rest of the pile to the side.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as he reached across her and lifted the piano's lid and slid the support bar into place. His arm brushed against her in the process and it took everything in her to keep the sudden blush from her face. Her mouth felt dry suddenly and her palms felt sweaty. She tried to discreetly wipe them off on her skirts as he propped the sheets of music up on the stand.

Evangeline managed somehow to make it through the entire piece without stumbling once despite her nerves. She'd played this song before with her other piano tutors, and then again on her own when she'd been forced to practice independently by her mother so she was already familiar with its pace and rhythm.

Erik let her finish the entire piece before he offered her his notes and recommendations. He had only minor corrections to make, and most of them involved hand exercises that would help her reach the furthest notes without sacrificing speed while playing.

She played it through three more times before his bony finger poked her sharply in her arm. She flinched away from him and stopped playing as she stared up at him in surprise.

"My arms were _not_ lazy!" she protested fiercely as she narrowed her eyes at him.

They were a week into lessons now, and she knew better than to let her palms rest on the piano or lock her elbows. He was merciless, and he never let her get away with anything.

He chuckled at her ire which only made her more irritated in response.

"You are far too stiff when you play," he complained vaguely without any additional elaboration.

She stared up at him as if he'd grown a second head. "My, you have rather a lot of opinions on posture," she retorted acidly.

"I do when it comes to music," he concurred succinctly. And then he grinned at her with his infuriatingly tight lipped smile as he gestured for her to continue playing.

Evangeline set her hands to the keys again and started over. What exactly was she supposed to do differently this time? The notes were correct. She hadn't made any glaring mistakes. Her timing was good, and she wasn't missing any notes. Her left hand kept up with her right. How could he possibly expect more than this from her? What exactly did he want from her? Her stomach somersaulted when he placed his hands on her arms and tried to force her body to comply with his vague recommendation. And suddenly it was just too much and she couldn't think.

She stood abruptly from the bench and slipped her hand free from his grip. He seemed surprised by her sudden withdrawal from him. His wide Amber eyes sought hers as she leaned against the piano for support. It took her a second to regain her composure.

"You will need to be a little less ambiguous, maestro. Perhaps a demonstration would help me understand?" she avoided in a voice that she hoped sounded calm.

Meanwhile, her heart was beating wildly in her throat and her palms felt sweaty again. She set her elbow on the piano's edge and cradled her chin in her palm, as she often did when she watched him play, as she tried to put a mask of boredom on her face. Why was it so difficult to keep up these facades around him? No one had ever affected her like this before.

His eyes narrowed at her slightly as he studied her impassive face. After a moment he set his hands to the piano and began to play for her.

He played the piano with his entire body. His hands and arms looked completely fluid as he played the same piece that she'd just abandoned. And she was suddenly grateful that she had the excuse of studying him for his posture, because she wasn't sure that she'd have been able to avoid staring at him anyways when he played like that. He played the piano like it was his lover. His hands caressed the keys as they ghosted over its surface.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat as his eyes sought hers again while he played.

Why did her knees feel weak? This wasn't like her at all. She never lost her nerve. She did not take to flights of fancy. She was cold and untouchable. So why then was it so hard to remember it whenever he looked at her like _that_?


	13. Chapter Twelve

Erik played the same piece that Evangeline had just played. He let his self consciousness and sense of unease go as he set himself to the keys and let the song take flight. His fingers and hands were perfect even though this song was simple and not one of his favorites. But he played it because she'd admitted to him that she liked it. And it was a simple enough thing to do if it brought her a moment of pleasure. Truthfully, he could see the appeal if he allowed himself to admit it. Fur Elise was a sweet and gentle piece of music with an interesting enough transition point. And it was an easier piece that would give a beginner confidence. In fact it had been a good piece for her to practice on today.

Just before he finished the song he glanced up and saw the way that she was staring at him. His playing nearly faltered and he almost hit the wrong key as he noticed the way that she was studying him. There was an intensity to her eyes that belied the bored, placid expression on her face.

He let Fur Elise fade away and transitioned to a completely different piece. This one was one of his own, and he was interested to see if it would have any effect on her as she stood there watching him pretending to be bored. He wondered if she know that her stormy grey eyes betrayed her.

As he played and wove the song around them he noticed that her gaze softened and she leaned more heavily into her propped up arm. It made him ridiculously proud to see how his own music affected her, and he wondered how mad she would be if she knew what he was doing right now.

When her pupils dilated slightly and her mouth softened all while she still held his gaze he realized that he had taken the game a little too far, perhaps. He let his eyes drop back down to the keys and tried to swallow past the lump that was now lodged in his throat.

Erik switched songs abruptly as he began to play a little Faust instead. There was nothing quite so unromantic as some of Wagner's pieces. The effect was almost immediate as she blinked at him and shifted on her feet. He wondered why he felt a little disappointment when she turned away from him to stare out the window. She looked lost in thought, and he allowed himself to watch her now since she appeared to be oblivious to him.

He played song after song for her until his irritation at being so completely ignored escalated. Finally he let his fingers stop mid note. But even then she didn't turn back to look at him!

Erik watched her brow furrow as she stared intently out the window.

"Is something wrong?" he probed.

"Someone is coming up the drive," she murmured as she stepped away from the piano and approached the window.

His fingers stilled on the piano until he realized that he could look at her as much as he pleased now that she was turned away from him and focused on whatever was happening outside.

And then he too could hear the sounds of someone coming up the long, still muddy, pebbled driveway that led up to the mansion. And then there were the sounds of horses and the rumbling of wheels echoing through the thin glass covered window.

She placed a hand upon the window as she peered more intently outwards.

"Who is it?" he asked her warily.

Had her parents returned? But weren't they supposed to be spending the entire Summer in London? Maybe something had happened and they'd been forced to return early. He felt a little surge of disappointment that perhaps that was the case and his access to her might diminish greatly. An elderly Aunt might not care about chaperones and propriety at home, but surely a mother and a father would care deeply.

"I am… not certain. I do not recognize the carriage," she replied distractedly.

Her face was intent as she stared out the window, and he wondered if she knew how beautiful she was whenever she let her facade drop away.

Erik was just trying to decide if he should get up from the piano to join her at the window when she let out a soft puff of air and smiled. It was a good thing that he hadn't risen yet, because his knees felt weak when he saw her face break out into a bright, true smile. Her entire face lit up from within like clouds shifting to reveal the shining Summer sun.

"Oh! Oh… I can't believe it…" she exclaimed as she reached down to grab her skirts up in her hands.

Erik was startled when she ran from the room in a flurry of rustling skirts. Her heels clicked loudly against the floor as she dashed from the music room.

Unease settled within him as he looked at the empty doorway that she'd just disappeared through. He rose from the piano and crossed the room to the window. He needed to see what, or whom, had caused such a complete and total transformation within her.

As Erik looked out the music room window he spied the carriage that had come up the drive. And there was the butler waving his hands around and directing footmen and the carriage driver about. Erik spied the tall, lean figure of a man with fair hair standing in the gravel and mud. The young man was being clasped on the back by the butler and both of the men seemed content to watch the footmen bring a mountain of trunks down from the back of the carriage.

And then Erik saw Evangeline as she ran down the drive utterly careless of the mud that she was splattering up onto the hem of her dress. She threw herself into the man's now open arms. The lad caught her easily by the waist and whirled her around in circles, and Erik felt a knife twisting in his gut as he heard her squeal of laughter faintly through the window pane. When the young man set her back down on her feet and leaned down to kiss her cheek Erik forced himself to look away. He closed his eyes and sighed as his hands fisted tightly at his sides and his jaw clenched so hard that his teeth clicked.

Why must there always be some attractive, wealthy, stylishly dressed fop at the end of every woman who caught his interest?


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Evangeline was so excited that she just simply couldn't contain herself. They laughed together as Freddie set her back down in the muddy gravel. Celeste would have her head later for staining the dress, but Evangeline would muddy up a thousand gowns if it meant that Freddie was here with her for the entire summer. Everything would be okay now that he was at her side once again.

Freddie set her down and chuckled then leaned down to place a kiss against her upturned cheek.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him excitedly.

Freddie grinned his charming, rakish smile down at her. "Well if my darling sister doesn't want me home then I can simply have the carriage re-loaded and leave," he teased her ruthlessly as he pantomimed blimbing back inside the carriage. Evangeline slapped his arm and grinned at him when he rubbed the spot and pretended that she'd actually hurt him.

"You know that is not what I meant!" she chided him loudly.

He grinned in response and took a deep, dramatic breath before he let it out slowly.

"Ah! I missed the clean country air is all… and the comforts of my own bed… and father's good whiskey and Cook's delicious meat pies..." he drawled.

"And your dearest charming darling sister?" Evangeline said impatiently as she fisted her hands on her hips and tried to glare up at him. But she couldn't keep the wide, crazed grin from her face. She was just so happy to see him after months of separation. Freddie pretended to ponder her question as she tapped her foot at him expectedly. And then his smile split wide and she forgave him instantly for teasing her.

"Well of _course_ I missed my bratty sister," he relented finally.

And then Freddie slung his arm around her shoulder and Evangeline threaded her fingers through his and together they walked side by side into the house while the servants unloaded his luggage. It was good to have him home.

* * *

Freddie had excused himself to unpack and settle back into his rooms and rest after the long journey home from school so Evangeline had decided to head back to her room as well for luncheon and to change.

Celeste was horrified at the state of the blue and yellow striped morning dress, but Evangeline shrugged it off. It had never been one of her favorites anyways. She'd only worn it so much recently because she knew that its excess of flounces irritated Erik.

Her maid spirited the destroyed gown away to see if the laundress could perhaps save it while the damage was fresh. Evangeline looked in her wardrobe and decided what to wear for dinner. She stood in her chemise and pantalettes and stockings as she surveyed the rack of gowns before her. She'd just decided on her sapphire blue evening gown, the one with the velvet trim and bows, when Celeste finally returned.

"The sapphire gown tonight," Evangeline instructed.

She nodded in the direction of the dress that she'd decided upon and watched Celeste as she pulled it out and set it on the dressform for preparation.

"The whole hose is excited to see Sir Alfred back home," Celeste remarked pleasantly.

"Yes, it is good to have him home again. He has been gone for far too long," Evangeline agreed.

"Will you luncheon downstairs, miss?" the maid asked.

Evangeline shook her head. She didn't want to dress twice before dinner. "No, have Cook send up a tray. I shall retire to my rooms this afternoon," she answered.

Celeste fluffed the skirts of the blue evening gown, then curtsied quickly and left.

Evangeline smiled and was glad that there was no one there to see her in her foolishness. To distract herself she picked up the book that she'd been reading lately and opened it to the place where she'd left off. She read until her luncheon tray arrived, and then she ate and read some more until Celeste returned to curl and pin her hair.

By the time that Celeste had finished pampering her Evangeline was only twenty minutes late to dinner. Still, it would show Freddie right to have to wait for her as punishment for being gone from her for so long.

She made her way down to the parlor that was just off of the dining room as she tried, and failed, to contain her excitement.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Freddie ran a hand through his tousled hair as he tried to manage it back into some semblance of respectability. He'd dressed in haste after waking from his nap in time for dinner and his stomach grumbled noisily in its demand for food. It was so good to be back home and sleeping in his own bed!

He entered the dining room and nearly stumbled, half-asleep, into another gent.

"Oh! Hello," he murmured as he looked the strange man up and down and tried to determine who he was.

Had his family hired a new servant in his short absence? He'd only been gone since Christmas break.

"Good evening," the fellow replied politely in a cultured, accented voice.

Freddie let his gaze run up and down the man a little rudely. He took in the imperfect fit of the man's black suit and his gaze flitted only briefly over the white mask that covered half of the man's face from view.

His eyes slid sideways to the armchair where Aunt Mabel was currently sleeping.

He smirked and nodded towards his elderly Aunt, "well, I see that she's exactly where I left her," he joked.

The stranger merely stared at him coolly in response.

Freddie felt his confusion growing. Had he met this man before? But he couldn't place him. If he'd met him once upon a time, then he'd forgotten him. And if he hadn't met the man before, then he supposed that it was up to him to begin the introductions. Either way, Freddie knew that he was being rude. Thank goodness mother wasn't there to see it.

"I'm Freddie," Freddie said, as if that explained everything.

The tall, dark, masked stranger merely inclined his head in response. "Erik," the man replied, as if that explained everything.

Freddie licked his lips and narrowed his eyes shrewdly at the strange, rude man. Who the hell was he? And what the hell was he doing with the family waiting for dinner?

"Care for a drink?" Freddie offered politely as he crossed towards the hidden bar at the other side of the room. And without waiting for the man to reply he set out two crystal tumblers and poured two stiff fingers of father's best whiskey into each glass.

He picked a glass up in each hand and crossed back over to the man as he handed him one of the glasses and took a sip of his own drink.

The two men drank in silence for a moment as Freddie studied the man from the corner of his eyes and tried to determine if he'd ever seen the man before. He would have hoped that he would remember a man wearing a leather white mask, but there had been quite a few fuzzy nights spent deep in his cups at the gambling tables at White's in previous seasons. So he really couldn't be certain either way.

Freddie took a long sip of his drink and sighed dramatically as he tapped his fingers awkwardly against the glass.

And then the door opened and Evangeline strode into the room.

"Oh thank God," Freddie mumbled to himself.

The strange, masked man shifted on his feet but said nothing.

"Oh! So you've met then," she said softly as her eyes slid between them.

Hmm. So not a common servant then, if his darling sister had expected them to greet one another.

"Yes… Erik…" Freddie surmised. "But who exactly _is_ Erik?"

Evangeline cast him a look that betrayed her exasperation with him right then.

"Oh, so you _haven't_ made introductions, then…" she muttered crossly.

Freddie smiled his most charming smile at her.

Evangeline made a show of looking between Freddie's drink and him.

"Already started, then?" she chided him like a mother-hen.

"As I told you before, I only returned for the whiskey and meat pies," he kidded.

Evangeline crossed over to his side and pulled his drink from his hand, then took a sip of it and made a face at him.

"I do not see the appeal," she muttered as she set the glass aside on a nearby table and linked their arms together.

"Well, that's why it was my drink and not yours," he lamented. "Now, are you going to make introductions, or shall we simply continue being rude?" he said as he nudged her in the side with his elbow.

Evangeline smiled wickedly up at him before she turned her attention to the strange and silent masked man.

"Erik, this is Freddie," Evangeline began.

"Ooh!" Freddie interrupted her, amused. "First name basis, huh? Interesting. But we've already done this bit. I thought that finishing school had taught you a thing or two about social niceties. It's good to see that even school couldn't tame all of the wild out of you," he remarked flippantly.

Evangeline pinched him and smiled when he yelped in response. Damn, she had a mean pinch.

"As I was saying," she started again, a little louder this time. "Erik, this is my _younger_ brother Freddie."

Freddie groaned and shook his head. "Two minutes and fourteen seconds between us, and she never lets me forget it," he groaned as he rolled his eyes.

She looked towards the man called Erik. "Ignore him, I often do," she directed towards the masked man. "And Freddie, this is Erik, the piano tutor whom mother hired all the way from Venice to make me marriageable."

Freddie sniffed and wished that Evangeline hadn't taken his drink away from him. "What, does no one has last names in Venice?" he inquired comically as Evangeline slapped his arm lightly.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Erik offered politely with a nod of his head.

Well, at least the man was glowering less now. Apparently the man liked whiskey, because he was much less stiff as he finished his glass. Freddie filed that information away for later in case it became useful again.

Aunt Mabel stirred in her chair, then made a sound of surprise when she spotted him.

"Auntie!" he exclaimed delightedly as he ditched Evangeline's arm and stepped over to the chair to help the old woman to her feet.

"Oh Freddie, my boy! So good to have you home. Are you here for the Summer?" Aunt Mabel inquired.

"Yes, that's right. I couldn't leave Eva up here all alone. Who knows what sort of trouble she'd get into without my guiding presence," he mocked lightly.

Evangeline snorted indignantly, but Freddie refused to turn and look at her. He knew that she hated being ignored more than anything else and she deserved it for pinching and punching and slapping him after he'd just made the grueling journey from Cambridge to London to home. He was exhausted and he wanted nothing more than a good meal, a stiff drink, and a long sleep.

"I'm famished," he whined. "Let's eat."

Aunt Mabel took his offered arm as he reached up and pulled the velvet rope that let the staff know that they were ready for dinner. He led the old woman to her chair, then took up his seat at the head of the table. Evangeline and Aunt Mabel sat on either side of him, and Freddie looked on with amusement as the piano tutor looked a little flustered as if he didn't know where he should sit.

Freddie should help him by nodding towards the man's proper place, but he preferred to watch the man flounder a little instead. Ultimately the man chose the seat next to his sister. _Interesting_. Freddie filed that away for consideration later too.

* * *

After dinner, Freddie wanted to groan when Aunt Mabel demanded that the music tutor play for them. Apparently it had become a sort of after dinner tradition since the man's arrival. Freddie was stuffed with Cook's excellent dinner and now he wanted nothing more than to pass out in bed and sleep for an entire day.

Instead, he was nodding his head and relenting to her request. He'd even managed to mutter some nonsense about how that was an excellent idea. Both Aunt Mabel and Eva seemed pleased by his agreement, so he was reassured that he'd done the proper thing. He rose and helped Aunt Mabel to her feet as their little group made their way to the music room.

With Aunt Mabel deposited on the settee Freddie was free to take up his sister's arm again. They'd really been parted for far too long now. But he was done with school now. He'd passed the bar and was a bona fide lawyer. Although he doubted that he'd ever have to work a day in his life. Still, it was the principle of it. A man needed a profession, even if he was gentry. And he'd made a lot of excellent connections at Cambridge.

When the music tutor settled himself at the piano and began to play Freddie angled his head towards his sister.

"Piano lessons, huh?" he inquired quietly.

"Mother's latest scheme," she replied just as softly.

Freddie groaned. He'd hoped for a quiet Summer at home. His last year at University had been grueling, and he just didn't have it in him to spend the summer in London with his parents right after taking his exams. He let his gaze slid over to the masked man at the piano. It looked like the months ahead were shaping up to be anything but boring.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Evangeline stood with her arm linked with Freddie's as they watched Erik play the piano. She was glad that Erik's sour mood had lightened. He must have been angry with her that she'd abandoned their music lesson before its completion. Honestly, though, could he really expect her to play the piano dutifully when her brother had just returned home? But he was sulking less now, and Freddie was here by her side, and things were slowly getting back to the way that they should.

"So… _only_ piano lessons? Or is there more?" Freddie probed softly.

"Mother's last ditch effort to get me married off," she whispered back.

Freddie groaned and the sound made her smile. He was the only one who ever really understood her. It was good to have his unwavering support again. She felt like half of her was missing whenever he was gone.

"Of course…" he muttered darkly.

"There's to be a musicale at the end of the season, where I am expected to perform a solo piece. She's going to invite the elite of the Ton, and all of its eligible and not-so eligible bachelors, to stay here for weeks. And then if everything goes to her planning she will announce an engagement at the end of it all," she confided in him.

"Of course…" he echoed as he rolled his eyes and squeezed her arm against him.

The familiar, comforting gesture brought the pinprick of tears to her eyes but Evangeline tipped her head back and focused on Erik's music instead. If she started crying right now she feared that she'd never stop.

"Hmm…" Freddie murmured vaguely.

"What?" she asked, irritated that he was pulling her attention away from Erik's playing while she was trying so hard not to cry.

"We'll think of something, Eva," he said as he leaned to the side and kissed her hair. "We always do."

Evangeline closed her eyes as a tear slid down her cheek.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear and Evangeline awakened to a note from Erik. It stated that he needed to cancel their piano lesson that morning because the roads were clear enough now for him to retrieve his things.

She folded the note in half and set it aside. The change in plans suited her needs well enough because she'd rather spend the day with Freddie anyways.

Celeste brought in the morning tray of toast and a pot of hot chocolate as Evangeline set about her morning ablutions and ate quickly, then dressed in a breezy white morning gown with a modest train.

Dressed, and ignoring Celeste's protests to slow down, Evangeline drank her hot chocolate down quickly then stuffed the piece of toast in her mouth. She could eat on the way and kill two birds with one stone.

Evangeline ate her buttered toast in four bites as she made her way into Freddie's chambers without knocking.

She laughed at Freddie's half-asleep snort from somewhere within a mountain of blankets. He groaned when she abruptly pulled his curtains aside to let the morning sun do half of her job for her.

"It's not even noon yet!" he protested weakly from within the sheets as he pulled a pillow out from under his head and covered his eyes with it.

"Rise and shine!" she ordered bossily. "Beauty sleep can't help you anyways, you're hopeless," she kidded.

"Ugh… don't wanna," he whined as he tried to roll over.

"My piano lessons are cancelled today so I am all yours!" she announced excitedly.

"But what if I don't want you?" he muttered crossly.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at him and saw that his naked foot was peeking out through a gap in the sheets. She grinned and ran her long fingernail up the sensitive skin of the underside of his foot.

Freddie yelped and withdrew his foot back into the sheets.

"Get up!" she yelled at him and then, as quickly as she'd entered the room, she left.

* * *

Forty minutes later Freddie finally joined her in the library.

"Well that took you long enough," Evangeline said sharply.

"To be fair, you didn't tell me where you were going or what we'd be doing," he said as he shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you think we're doing?" she asked him.

Freddie looked about the grand three story library and grimaced. "Hopefully not reading, I've had enough of that for a lifetime."

Evangeline smiled and pulled him over to the large desk where a monstrous stack of books sat, threatening to topple over if either one of them so much as sneezed. The pile was taller than either one of them.

"We are here to do research for my little problem," she explained.

Freddie read the spines of the legal books and groaned even louder.

"Law books… yay... my favorite…" he muttered sarcastically.

But, like a dutiful twin brother should, Freddie took the topmost book from the pile and cracked it open as he took a seat.

* * *

Evangeline looked up from her own thick legal book as she lounged in the window seat of the library. It was her second favorite spot to sit and read in their vast three story library.

She sighed dramatically and shut the book. Another dead end.

Freddie's head was buried in his equally thick tome, and for a moment Evangeline felt guilty that her brother had just returned from University and she was shoving him right back into the very thing that he hated most. He'd gone to law school because his mother had told him to become a lawyer. But Evangeline knew that his heart wasn't in it. Their monstrous stack of books had dwindled only slightly. Only a few books could be ruled out right away, the others needed to be skimmed carefully to see if they pertained to her and her situation.

The morning light had peaked and dimmed as the afternoon waned. And they still hadn't made any real progress.

Evangeline stood up and crossed the room to where Freddie sat reading.

"Another waste of time," she said as she added her book to the pile that was to be returned to the shelves.

"Hmm… this one isn't much better. Although… if you wish to know more about the nuanced laws regarding animal husbandry then this particular volume may be of some use to us after all," he summarised.

Evangeline grabbed the book from out of his hand and added it to the growing return pile with a sigh.

Freddie leaned back and rubbed his eyes. He looked weary. Evangeline leaned forward and kissed his hair which made him smile.

"I'm tired, let's get ready for dinner. We can try again tomorrow afternoon," she offered.

He groaned in response and rubbed his face.

They returned to their separate rooms and Evangeline hurriedly dressed for dinner. There wasn't much time. Apparently they'd spent the entire day in the library. And a piece of toast and a pot of hot chocolate didn't keep one full for very long. Evangeline was starving and didn't even think to protest when Celeste tied her into her corset tightly and dressed her in a short sleeved evening gown. She rubbed her tired eyes and tried to blink away her fatigue. Thankfully her hair had survived the library and didn't need redressing.

Dressed and coiffed and bejeweled she left the curtsying Celeste and headed to the dining room's adjoining parlor.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Erik scrubbed the dirt and grass stains from his hands. He'd never been so glad to peel the ill fitting suit from his body. If he never had to wear it again then it would be far too soon. The blasted monsoon had finally ended and after a day and a half of sun the mud had mostly dried out back to dirt and Erik was able to grab two boys from the stable and retrieve his cart and luggage. It had taken over an hour, even with the help of the boys, to dig the cart out of the mud. But then it was freed and the drive back to the mansion was quick and he finally had his things again.

He set his clothes out for airing in the provided dresser and was glad that his trunk had been watertight. Nothing had been damp or mildewed, thankfully. His violin came out next, and he sat its case aside on top of the dresser. He set his spare masks back inside the trunk, it wouldn't do to leave them out and about for curious snoops to take interest, and he left the leather folios of his sheet music, spare paper, and ink pen set in the trunk as well with a few other odds and ends.

One of the laundresses had been kind enough to press and starch his best suit for him quickly when he'd asked, and now Erik donned the familiar clothing and breathed a sigh of relief as he buttoned the jacket closed. He felt like himself again, now.

Taking the brass key from on top of the dresser he locked the trunk and dropped the key back into his pocket.

As he stepped out of his room and shut his door behind him he passed a few other servants along his way. It was always an uncomfortable thing for him to be in someone else's home. And he greatly disliked this gray area where he existed in some vague place between servant and guest. Ever since that first night when the matron had requested his presence at dinner the other staff had been even less cordial to him than before. He was used to being met with instant suspicion due to his mask, but this level of widespread unease was something else entirely.

But in all actuality, as he thought about it a little more, it reminded him a little of his time in Persia.

Serving girls and maids fled the room now when he entered. The footmen stopped their conversation whenever he walked down the hallway. Whispers echoed behind him when he left a room. But they mostly left him to himself, and no one sought him out, so he was as content to keep up this distance that had grown between them as they were to keep away from him.

Without his newly acquired musician friends or, God help him, Nadir, he was prepared for this to be a very lonely Summer indeed. But not right now. Because it was dinner time and the food upstairs was far finer than below and he hadn't seen Evangeline today.

Without a word to another soul he made his way to the staircase that led up to area closest to the family's private dining room.

The winding walk through corridors and parlors would have been confusing for anyone other than him, but he'd always been a quick study. He let himself appreciate the architecture of the mansion as he headed towards the parlor. While the decor might not have been to his taste, you couldn't say that the place wasn't exquisitely built. He wondered how old it was. The arches of some of the doorways demonstrated a Gothic influence, although he'd really only studied Italian architecture so he wasn't really certain about the nuances of English design.

When he found the parlor where they all waited for one another he saw that the matron was asleep in her usual seat.

The room was otherwise empty as Erik stepped into it and he cast a wary gaze at the old woman as she started snoring softly.

His eyes flickered to the hidden bar. Now that he knew that it was there he wondered if it would be entirely rude and presumptive of him if he helped himself to a drink. Did he care? He considered it for a moment, then decided that neither Evangeline nor Freddie seemed likely to make a stink of him drinking some of their expensive whiskey. And the old woman was pretending to sleep. He doubted that she'd stop him.

He crossed the room and poured himself a reasonable amount. There was even a bucket of ice today. Perhaps the servants stocked it now that Freddie had returned home? He'd never seen Evangeline or Aunt Mabel drink anything harder than wine.

With his drink in his hand he turned around and eyed the old woman who sat gently snoring in her chair. He took a sip and enjoyed the smooth way it burned his throat and left a soothing warmth behind as he swallowed. What vintage was this? _I need to buy some._

"That's a rather useful trick," he murmured softly towards the old woman as he watched her from the corner of his eye.

She cracked a wrinkled eye and smirked at him before returning to her ruse. He'd need to remember that for later when he was in his doddering old age and wanted to avoid idle chatter.

He was just taking another sip of whiskey when Evangeline entered and he nearly choked on his drink at the mere sight of her. Head to toe she was dressed in gold as if she'd been dipped in it. She looked like a sun goddess. And he was a damned fool for looking. Staring at the sun could blind you. No good would come of this… attraction. She was untouchable. She had never been meant for him. _And I'll not make the same mistake twice._ He was content with his life. So then why did all of these thoughts feel like lies?

She smiled at him and he felt lost in it.

Thankfully her brother arrived shortly after her.

Freddie ran his hand through his unkempt hair and Erik idly wondered if the boy kept it that way intentionally as some sort of fashion choice. The minutiae of today's fashion trends escaped him. He preferred a classic sort of sophistication when it came to his own personal sense of style. But as he subtly eyed Evangeline he could agree that perhaps it was worth the effort when it came to women.

Freddie poured his own drink and said nothing of the glass glass in Erik's hand. Erik greeted Evangeline who inquired politely about the repossession of his things. They chatted only for a moment before Freddie rolled his eyes and pulled the velvet rope.

* * *

OOO

After dinner Aunt Mabel declared that she was old and tired and would be retiring directly to bed. Erik felt a little flustered at her declaration since he'd grown quite used to playing for them after dinner. His hands itched to get back on the Stradivarius.

Freddie turned to him and held his empty whiskey glass aloft. "There's more where this came from in the study," Freddie offered as an oblique invitation.

"Good idea," Evangeline agreed wholeheartedly. "I just need to get something. I will meet you there?" she said to the both of them.

But it was clear that she wasn't waiting for their response. Erik and Freddie inclined their heads at the same time and they both stood politely as Evangeline rose from her chair and left them alone together. Freddie smiled at him with a curious expression on his unreadable, sly face and Erik groaned internally at the thought that God had been cruel enough to make _two_ of them.

When Freddie set his empty glass back on the table Erik did the same, and together they rose and then he was following the young man out of the dining room and down the twists and turns of various hallways. The boy told him about the history of various knick knacks and paintings as they passed and Erik let it filter through his mind as he watched the progression of paintings. They had portraits that must have been from the Renaissance time period upon their walls. Just how far back did this family go?

Freddie pointed out the portrait of a particularly ugly old woman with two moles on her face and a double chin. "That's Mary, she was an ugly old broad, wasn't she?"

Erik was at a loss of what to say. _I can hardly judge someone else's exterior when my own is so deformed._

The boy glanced back at him and ran his fingers through his hair. "But she was nearly as rich as the King when this was painted. Shrewd business woman, from what I'm told. Guess you can't really judge someone's worth from the way they look."

Erik narrowed his eyes at the boy. What angle was this? But Freddie was moving along quickly before Erik could question it or think of a reply.

"Come on! We're almost there. Sorry to bring you upstairs and then downstairs again but it's the shortest way to the study. The place was built on by a few different people at different time periods so it doesn't always make sense," Freddie explained with a shrug.

The study was empty when Freddie pushed the door opened and sauntered across the room with a swagger that could only come from a lifetime of ease. Erik watched as the boy walked over to a large globe and opened it on a hinge. The top half fell back to reveal a well stocked bar. It seemed a peculiar place to hide one's liquor. Who stocked it? Surely the servants knew about it. So what was the point of hiding it, then?

"So, music man, what's your poison?" Freddie asked him.

"Whatever you are having," Erik answered.

Freddie poured them two drinks over ice and then they both seated themselves on separate ends of the large, leather sofa.

"My father's study," Freddie explained with a wave of his hand as he sipped his drink.

"What does your father do?" Erik inquired.

Freddie cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do? Hmm… good question. None of us really know," the boy answered flippantly.

"Your sister mentioned that you've just returned from school," Erik offered. He hated polite conversation. This was why he avoided parties.

The boy nodded. "Just finished law school at Cambridge," Freddie answered succinctly as he took another sip of his drink.

"So you will be a lawyer, then? What sort of law will you practice?" Erik probed further politely. Where the hell was Evangeline? This was torture. He was surprised when Freddie snorted and laughed.

"Oh, hardly. I doubt I'll ever truly practice," the boy said evenly.

Erik, at a loss of what to say, took a sip of his drink. Were all of the English nobility so flippant and arrogant? Or was it just this family in particular?

"It's just the way of things," the boy added with a shrug. "I was told to get a law degree. So I went to University and got a law degree. But mostly I went to school to make connections. Rub elbows and the like, you know."

That seemed a poor way to live one's life. Doing things purely for the sake of society or tradition.

And suddenly he recalled the conversation that he'd had with Evangeline when he'd told her quite the opposite. His gut twisted, and he took another sip of of drink to mask his sudden unease.

"But enough about me, I want to know more about you," Freddie ordered as the boy thrust his drink out towards Erik in a wild pointing gesture.

The ice cubes clinked and the drink threatened to spill in the short tumbler, but Freddie seemed completely unconcerned with making a mess. It must have been nice to constantly have everyone clean up your messes all the time.

Erik shrugged and settled back into the sofa. "You already know what you need to know about me," he evaded.

Freddie smirked at him. "Ah, yes. You're a musician from Venice. But you're not Italian. From the faintest hint of accent I'd guess that you're actually a Frenchman. Don't let mother know, by the way, because she hates the French unless they're lady's maids, dressmakers, or cooks. You teach Eva the piano, which she hates by the way, and you also play the violin amongst a whole other slew of things, which she told me yesterday. Yes, yes, yes, you're very talented. But what I want to know is the story that you haven't told my sister."

Erik took a sip of his drink as he considered the boy's demands. "Why the interest? I'm just a piano tutor," he evaded again.

Freddie leaned forward in his seat. "I take interest in everything that Eva takes interest in."

Evangeline entered the room in that moment with her arms laden with a pile of heavy looking leather bound books.

"What does Eva take interest in?" she asked her brother with an upturned brow and a sour expression.

Erik looked between the two of them and watched as the hard glint in Freddie's eyes fell away and the boy groaned loudly.

"Law books apparently…. damnit," the boy cursed softly.

Erik fought to keep himself from laughing at the sudden turn of events. His angel had rescued him from further interrogation.

Evangeline glanced warily between the two men as she stepped into the room fully. She shifted the books in her grasp and handed a thick tome to each of them. And then she kept the last one to herself, wrangled her skirts, and sat between them on the sofa.

Her elbow brushed against his as she sat down and Erik nearly spilled his drink. She'd completely surprised him yet again. He finished his drink in one gulp and set the glass aside as he looked at the title on the book's spine.

"And what exactly am I to do with this book of law?" Erik inquired.

Evangeline glanced at him and gave him a look that said that he should know better.

"You see, Erik, a long, long time ago people decided it would be a grand idea to put ideas on paper so they made books," she condescended to him.

"I am familiar with the concept," Erik replied acidly. "But what exactly am I supposed to do with this particular book on…" he glanced at the spine again, "property law."

"Read it, of course," Freddie chimed in brightly.

The boy had already cracked his book and he was flipping through pages and skimming the titles of cases as he sipped on his own whiskey.

"Really, I thought that was rather obvious," the boy chuckled as he flipped to the next page.

"We are looking for a loophole," Evangeline added as she cracked her own book in her lap.

"Ah, for your… situation," Erik added delicately. He did not want a repeat of last week's tears.

Freddie gasped comically from his side of the sofa. "Eva! You told him? You _confided_ in him?"

Evangeline flipped the page of her book loudly and with far more force than was strictly necessary. "Oh, shut up and read, both of you," she ordered them through gritted teeth.

And so they did.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

If Freddie never saw another law book in his life he would consider it to be far too soon. Evangeline had forced him and that Erik chap to scour law books all week in between her morning piano lessons and their group dinners. The poor besotted fool of a tutor hadn't even had the nerve to tell her no. Instead, the music instructor had diligently read law book, after law book, after law book with her. Freddie had just decided today that he couldn't take it anymore.

And Evangeline had been furious with him when he'd told her as much.

"It's like you don't even care!" she yelled at him with a tremor in her voice.

Oh God, he hoped that she didn't cry. He couldn't stand it when she cried.

"It's one afternoon, Eva! One afternoon off won't change things. We still have weeks to come up with something. And reading law books isn't getting us anywhere right now, anyways," he argued with her.

Evangeline bit her lip. "I won't do it, Freddie. I swear, I won't do it," she seethed vehemently.

"What? Take an afternoon off? I'll read twice as many law books tomorrow if you want," he pleaded. It was for everyone's sanity, really.

He saw that her temper was getting shorter and shorter with every day that they didn't have a solution. And her barbs were starting to make the poor besotted music teacher look like a kicked puppy. The poor chap hadn't quite mastered her tells yet, apparently, to know when she was serious and when she wasn't.

In truth, Freddie felt like the only one who really ever understood Eva sometimes. How could he not? They'd been together since before they were even born.

"This isn't about this afternoon!" she whined petulantly.

Freddie grabbed her wildly flailing hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

She heaved a huge sigh and he could practically see her counting to ten in her head. But still, he didn't let her hand go.

"I know," he murmured sadly.

"I won't do it," she echoed. "I can't. I can't marry someone who I don't even… I don't want that kind of..."

Her hand grew limp in his own and Freddie used it to pull her into him for a hug. When she closed her eyes and buried her face into his neck he gently stroked her hair.

"I know. You don't have to tell me… I know. And we will figure something out. But not today. Everyone is at their snapping point. We all need a good frolic, and then I swear, Eva, that I will read twice as many law books tomorrow if I have to, in order to get you and me out of this blasted house today," he promised.

Evangeline pulled back from him a moment later and looked up at him with her sad eyes as he stroked her hair and brushed the trail of tears from her face.

"Hey, now," he offered playfully, "let's pack a picnic. We'll take the horses out for a good run and then we can sit by the waterfall and your Erik can play that violin of his for us."

Evangeline made a face at him. "Well don't say it like that," she scoffed.

He arched his brow at her. "Oh? But isn't he? You can't tell me that you're not… fond of him. I see the way that you two glance at one another when the other one isn't looking," he teased her.

"It's not… I don't… He doesn't…" she protested weakly.

"Oh come now, who are you kidding? I never said that you were in love with the man… honestly," he said as he rolled his eyes.

Evangeline blushed, and it happened on such a rare occasion that it actually surprised him.

"Unless…." he teased her mercilessly. And he laughed when she struck him on the arm.

"I am not in love with him," she declared fiercely.

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Yes well that's all well and good, but love isn't necessarily a requirement for having a good time. You know that I couldn't judge you for it anyways if you _did_ actually decide to have a little fun for once," he remarked carelessly.

Evangeline glared up at him, "Aren't you supposed to protect my virtue? Defend my honor? You're a terrible brother," she mocked him.

"The absolute worst," he agreed. "I want my sister to be happy. The scandal! The outrage! Chain me up in the dungeons!" he joked as he held his wrists out towards her. "Besides, I like the fellow. He's interesting. You should keep this one around," Freddie added nonchalantly.

"You know that's not even my choice to make," she retorted glumly, her voice cracking.

Freddie nodded and didn't like how her face darkened again. "I know."

"I… I wouldn't…" she stammered, her cheeks pink again.

Freddie gripped her by the shoulders and stared her directly in the eyes. "Eva, I'm not saying run away with the man. But maybe, perhaps, since you're already being punished for being a wanton creature you should… I dunno… make the punishment fit the crime? Or… make the crime fit the punishment? I can't honestly believe that we're even discussing this right now. Except that this is all my fault, and I hate to see you so depressed and upset, and I see your face light up whenever he's around. And I just want you to be happy… and this is all my doing anyways, and there's not much else that I can do to make up for it right now except read law books and take you on a picnic."

Evangeline blinked up at him and he saw unshed tears in her eyes. "I'm not mad at you. You know that, right? I'd do it again if I had to," she told him sincerely.

He smiled sadly at her and leaned forward to place a kiss against her forehead. "I know," he murmured softly. He didn't deserve her.

"Well, I suppose if only one of us can be the naughty one then perhaps I ought to wear the halo for a little while. Especially if mother is forcing her children into marriage, now. Just you wait and see, I'll be next," he kidded. But the barb landed a little too close to home and they both grimaced after he'd said it.

"Why do you even trust him?" she asked with a concerned voice. "You've only known him for a week. That isn't like you," she added.

He shrugged. "Well the fact of the matter is that I don't, not entirely, but you do. Why is that, by the way?" he probed gently.

Evangeline chewed her lip and thought for a moment. "Before you arrived I had one of my episodes and he kind of, sort of, saved my life… a little bit," she admitted.

Freddie looked at her to see if it was true, but there was no deception on her face.

"Well that rather makes a lot of sense, now, doesn't it?" he said, mostly to himself.

He let go of her shoulders and let his hands fall away from her. He should have been there for her. She wouldn't have needed rescuing from strange, masked, Venetian Frenchmen if he'd been there.

Evangeline reached down and took up his limp hands. She gripped them in her own, raised one high, turned it over, and placed a kiss against the palm.

"We'll find a way," she murmured.

And he wasn't entirely sure which conversation she was talking about anymore.

"Right," he agreed half-heartedly. "But for now let's put all of this scheming aside and go saddle up some horses. I'm starving and I need to get out of this depressing house."

Evangeline nodded and the pair of them loped off in better spirits now to find the music tutor.

* * *

They found the music tutor in his room of all places. The staff scuttled away like beetles when Evangeline and Freddie popped up (or is it down?) in the staff's quarters. Freddie dropped Evangeline off in the kitchen with Cook where the two ladies were at this very moment discussing whether or not there was enough time to roast a chicken for the picnic.

Evangeline had offered to take whatever was on hand or could be prepared quickly, but Cook was apparently horrified that the young lord and lady of the house might picnic with anything less that a full seven course meal complete with china and linens.

Freddie washed his hands of the conversation with the excuse of locating the elusive music tutor. Butler directed him to the man's room in the men's living quarters.

Erik opened the door after a moment's knocking and the chap didn't seem surprised at all to see Freddie standing there on his doorstep.

Freddie took a quick look about the room and tried to keep his expression neutral. Good God, was this how the staff lived? It was positively dreadful. He'd have to do something about that. It was white on white on white and the only relief was the brown wooden furniture. Where was the color? The knick knacks? Freddie loved a good, colorful knick knack.

"Yes?" Erik inquired when freddie didn't say anything.

"Do you ride?" Freddie asked with a sloppy grin on his face as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

"On occasion," the music tutor replied.

Freddie nodded. "Good. I'll see you in the stables in a half hour, then," he ordered. And then he turned to leave, since he considered the conversation over now that the knew that the man did actually know how to ride a horse, but then he thought of something else so he turned back around quickly.

"Wait!" he called out, and the closing door reopened and Freddie saw the man's put-out-upon expression.

"Yes?" Erik asked.

"You have something less… formal to wear, yes?" Freddie asked, gesturing to Erik's suit.

Erik nodded and shut the door in Freddie's face.

Freddie took a half step back and laughed at the man's boldness. He clapped his hands together once. This promised to be a very entertaining frolic, indeed.

* * *

Freddie and Erik both arrived in the stables at roughly the same time. Both of them were attired in a proper riding costume, and Freddie took a moment to appreciate the lines of Erik's back and the narrowness of the man's trim waist. Who was this man's tailor? Someone in Venice? Perhaps a trip to Venice would be in order...

When Erik glanced in his direction Freddie busied himself with tying the satchel with their blanket and picnic to his brown gelding.

Freddie deemed the draft horse that Erik had purchased for the journey to be unsuitable for riding and had offered to let the man take his pick of one of their many horses. The Harlowe children were all terribly fond of riding so the household kept an impressive selection of horses in their vast stables.

Erik was perusing the larger geldings in the rear of the stables when Evangeline joined them in the barn.

Freddie cocked his eyebrow when he saw her and he couldn't stop the bay of laughter that escaped him. Good lord, was she wearing trousers? He shouldn't even be surprised anymore.

"What is _that_?" he asked her as he gestured towards her legs.

She grinned up at him in response. "We are riding up to the waterfall, I can get there much easier without a bunch of skirts and my side saddle," she explained.

Bollocks! Eva was a masterful rider. She could even do jumps in the side saddle that she loathed.

He rubbed his chin and grinned. Of course his darling Eva knew how to ride astride like a man. Why would he even question that? He just wondered how the music man would react to this. His grin widened. This was proving to be a highly entertaining frolic, indeed. He was so terribly pleased with himself for coming up with this.

"What? Do you think that I can not manage it?" she challenged him.

Freddie held his hands up in the air in mock surrender. "Not at all! After you, good sir," he joked as he followed her to her white and blonde gelding.

"Hello, Apollo," she murmured lovingly to the horse as the fair haired gelding nibbled and slobbered on her hands excitedly.

Freddie shuddered. What was it with girls and horses? He liked horses. And he enjoyed riding as much as the next man, but he didn't let them slobber all over him.

Evangeline wiped her hands clean on her black jacket and stroked her horse along his nose.

Freddie rolled his eyes and pulled a spare English saddle from the wall.

"Move aside, unless you want to saddle your own horse for once," he muttered.

Evangeline moved to the side to let him pass but gave no other indication that she'd heard him as Freddie carried the saddle into the stall and set about dressing his sister's horse.

"So rude, don't pay any attention to him, Apollo" she whispered in a sing song voice to the horse.

Freddie rolled his eyes and tied the saddle onto the horse. He retrieved the bit and reins from where he'd slung it over the stall fence. Thankfully the horse accepted it easily. Apollo was a laid back creature unlike his mistress.

Once he finished with his sister's horse he left her to saddle his own gelding, and then the two of them led their horses out by the reins to the mouth of the barn.

Erik joined them a moment later with his own already saddled selection. Freddie snorted loudly. Leave it to the man to pick the foulest beast in the entire barn. Erik led their father's prized black Arabian stallion to join the others.

Freddie looked over and saw Evangeline's worried expression. Should he intervene? Probably. But it wouldn't be as fun. Still, he had a feeling that Evangeline would be sad if the poor fool was tossed and broke his neck.

"Erik," she started tentatively. "I would recommend that you pick a different horse. Father's horse is… strong willed and spirited," she added tactfully. "We keep him for breeding, but he does not ride well."

Freddie didn't miss the way that the musician locked eyes with Evangeline.

"I'm a skilled rider. And I've come to the conclusion as of late that I like them spirited," Erik replied evenly.

Freddie fought to contain his laugh at the man's thinly masked double entendre. Let the poor fool snap his neck, then. He couldn't say that they hadn't warned him.

Evangeline dropped her horse's reins and walked up to the black, testy stallion carefully. She fingered the saddle's straps, then undid the buckle and grabbed the leather. Her other hand made a fist, and then she punched the horse in the ribs as she yanked on the leather strap and pulled it tighter before latching it all back together. The horse let out a puff of air as his rib cage shrank and the saddle was fitted properly to him this time.

"Lucifer likes to hold his breath when he's saddled. He probably meant to throw you off later when he let his breath go and the saddle slid sideways. If you had been fortunate he would have done it in the bramble bushes. If you'd been less fortunate, he'd have done it at the head of the waterfall. I wouldn't be surprised if he still tries to throw you at some point," she explained.

Erik ran a hand down the horse's neck and smiled.

"Are you sure you won't consider changing horses?" she asked warily.

"Animals like me," Erik deflected. And then the music tutor set his foot in the stirrup and leapt up into his saddle.

Freddie, who considered the conversation over now, did the same.

Evangeline was the only one left standing on the ground now. She looked between them both with a frown before she pulled her hat off of its hook on the wall and set it on her head as she made her way back to her own horse and climbed up onto her own saddle.

Freddie shook his head. It was so strange to see his sister riding astride in trousers. He wasn't entirely sure that he liked it.

* * *

The ride to the waterfall was extremely uneventful. No one was tossed into the bramble bushes. Although Freddie did catch Erik eying his sister's rump a time or two. He considered throwing the man off into the bramble bushes himself once or twice. It was one thing for Freddie to give his sister permission to live a little. But it was another thing entirely for that man to assume that he could take such liberties. He frowned at them as they flirted with one another along the trail.

But it was difficult to be irritated when it was so bloody nice outside. It was warm and sunny and there was even a cool breeze that wicked the sweat from their skin as they rode the well worn trail that would take them to the base of the falls.

When they finally arrived at the waterfall and the rocky pool that it emptied into they climbed off their horses and tacked them loosely to the trees after letting them drink their fill at the water's edge. The horses were content to be left to graze on leaves and grass.

Freddie pulled their picnic from the satchel and spread the blanket out upon the ground. But apparently Evangeline had other ideas because she sat one of the larger rocks and started unlacing her boots. Freddie watched her pull her knee high boots off of her feet and throw them carelessly into the grass. And then his sister was wading into the shallow edge of the water with her knee high trousers rolled and cuffed above her knees.

He sighed as he watched her antics while he was torn between feeling happy that she looked carefree as she enjoyed herself, and overprotective of her now that the music tutor was ogling her naked legs.

Honestly, the man acted like he'd never seen a woman's legs before. But then Freddie's thoughts flitted to the man's mask. He could watch the music tutor unabashedly now that the man was so completely enraptured with Evangeline's calves. If the man had been ogling some other woman who was not his sister then Freddie might have clapped the man on his back and wished him happy hunting. But this was Eva, so he didn't.

Eva appeared oblivious to the man who was watching her so intently as she splashed about in the cold water. But Freddie knew her better than to believe that to be true.

She turned about and dipped a hand into the water and then she splashed a line of water at them and laughed when he yelped in surprise. God, but it was cold. How did she stand it? He laughed anyways. It was good to see her looking happy again. She'd been such a grump all week.

Erik seemed equally amused by her antics, although Freddie noticed the way the man deftly avoided her splashes whenever she directed her attention in his direction.

Freddie lounged on the picnic blanket near the piano teacher and he stared at the man until Erik finally met his eyes. Freddie looked and saw that Evangeline had her back turned to them. It was now, or never, he supposed.

"She's more fragile than she lets on," Freddie said softly.

From the corner of Freddie's eye he could see Erik's head angle towards him. But the man remained silent.

"And she told me what you did for her. Thank you," Freddie added quickly.

"I did what anyone would have done," Erik replied. His voice sounded wary.

"Hmm?" Freddie replied noncommittally. "If you say so," he added after a moment of consideration.

"She is… unlike anyone I've ever met before," Erik said finally.

Freddie considered his words for how to summarize such a complicated topic. "Oh, indeed. I don't doubt that at all. When we were children Eva always had to do whatever I was doing. If I learned how to ride then she must learn how to ride too. If I learned how to climb trees, then she must learn that as well. If I learned how to sail, then she wanted her own sailboat. And regardless of what it was that we were learning she threw herself into it wholeheartedly until she was better than me. Mother never understood why Eva would want to learn how to hunt foxes instead of embroider seat cushions. And Eva never understood why mother always found her lacking when she learned whatever I learned and surpassed me. We didn't realize what was happening until it was far too late to correct it. That's always been the basis of their... friction," Freddie explained.

Evangeline turned back around towards them and started waving at them wildly.

"Come join me!" she yelled vaguely in their general direction.

But neither man seemed eager to take off their boots and wade into the frigid water. Evangeline pouted and declared them to not be any fun at all when both of them declined. But she joined them on the shore nonetheless.

"Stop dripping all over the blanket," Freddie chided her as she sat cross legged on their blanket.

"I can not change the laws of physics whenever it does not suit you," she retorted sarcastically.

Freddie snorted and set the bowl of fruit and wedges of cheese out on the center of the blanket.

"Then drip in the grass. It's not my fault that you decided to go wading in those frigid waters like a wild child," he scolded her.

Evangeline grabbed a grape from the bowl and threw it at his head, but Freddie was prepared for this so he ducked just in time to avoid it. It bounced off his shoulder harmlessly and landed somewhere in the grass behind him.

"This is a lovely spot," Erik added politely.

Evangeline smiled at the man and agreed. "We used to sneak out and come here all the time as children."

"She means that we ran wild, like tiny heathens, and drove our mother to hysterics often," Freddie added with a chuckle.

"When the summers got unbearable we would go swimming but it's too cold for that just now," she added.

"I've surmised as much," Eric said lightly with a chuckle.

Evangeline popped a grape in her mouth and smiled at the pianist as she chewed.

Freddie groaned internally. Why had he thought that this was a good idea? Now, he was forced to sit here and watch them make eyes at one another. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Evangeline laid herself out on the picnic blanket while Freddie sat cross legged beside her and Erik perched himself on a nearby boulder. He'd chastised her softly for bringing the Stradivarius outside, claiming that it could have been ruined in a thousand different ways, but she knew that he was pleased to get his hands on it again.

She'd simply shrugged her shoulders and said that nothing had happened and he needed to stop fussing about could-have-beens-that-hadn't.

And then he'd finally started playing for them after tuning the violin.

It was bliss to lie there on the blanket with Freddie at her side and Erik playing for them. The day was warm and a slight breeze ruffled the wayward strands of the baby hairs that framed her face. If she could have bottled this moment up and saved it for a rainy day she would have.

The ride back to the manor was uneventful except for a minor issue with Erik's mount. But Erik merely leaned forward and whispered something softly into the horse's ear. The stallion quit his antics and Evangeline wondered what he'd whispered to the horse. Lucifer never obeyed anyone not even her father or the stable hands who worked with him daily.

After that the horse was as docile as a kitten and Evangeline stared backwards at him in silent question, but he merely smiled his tight-lipped smile at her in return. He meant to keep his secrets to himself, apparently.

Once they'd unsaddled their horses and the tack had been whisked away for cleaning by a stable boy Freddie disappeared from the stables. He never stayed to groom his own horse like Evangeline did. Her brother might enjoy riding, but he had never really cared much for all of the work involved before or afterwards.

But Evangeline had always enjoyed that quiet moment after riding when horse and rider were tired and sore but content. She liked to take the various combs and brushes to Apollo's hide and mane. And Apollo always nuzzled her as she brushed the sweat and dirt from his coat. She checked his hooves for lodged rocks or loose shoes. Apollo's breath was warm on her neck and his velvet lips were tickling her ear as she tried to untangle a snarl in his mane.

"Enough! You giant puppy, I have already had a bath today," she chided the horse softly with a smile on her lips as she nudged his slobbery lips away.

"He's very fond of you," Erik said from somewhere behind her. She hadn't realized that he'd stayed behind as well.

Evangeline placed a hand against Apollo's warm neck as she turned and saw Erik studying her from where he was leaning against the stable railing.

"As well he should be. I raised him by hand when he was a baby," she explained. "His mother died from a fever shortly after giving birth. So I would sneak out and spend the night with him so that he was not alone all the time."

Evangeline finished picking apart the snarl in Apollo's mane until the horse's wavy blonde hair was as tamed as it would probably get.

"Apollo, is it?," Erik asked softly.

And then Apollo shouldered past Evangeline, stepped up to the gate, and leaned his great head over so that Erik would be forced to either pet him or step back.

Erik ran a hand down the horse's neck and shoulders and quickly found the spot that Apollo liked to have rubbed. The horse flicked his ears twice, then sighed in pleasure and seemed to melt. She set her comb down on the stall's shelf. It seemed she'd been entirely forgotten about.

"Traitor," Evangeline muttered under her breath as she pouted at her turncoat horse who was nuzzling Erik's empty hand.

Erik laughed softly and glanced at her with a sly look in his eye as if he was asking her if she was jealous that he'd so easily won the affection of her horse.

"Today was lovely," she said cordially, instead, and she meant every word of it.

She'd needed today more than she had realized and she was grateful that Freddie had forced her into it. Sometimes she thought that her brother knew her better than herself.

Erik looked up at her with an unreadable expression on his face. His amber eyes bored into hers and she had to suppress a shiver as the hairs on her arms stood up on their ends despite the stuffy warmth of the stables.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. But his eyes never left hers, and she was the first one who looked away.

* * *

Dinner that evening had held a strange tension. Afterwards, Aunt Mabel excused herself saying that she planned to retire to her rooms for the evening. She rarely came to their little music nights anymore. It was a young person thing to stay up late she'd insisted.

So instead of playing in the music room, Erik suggested bringing the violin into the study. Freddie agreed because he would agree to any excuse that let him break into father's best whiskey, and Evangeline agreed because she recalled that she had left one of the more promising law books in there the other night.

Evangeline sat on the large leather sofa as she waited for them to join her. She took up her usual seat in the middle and pulled the large, heavy book into her lap. She was just finishing up a promising court summary that had turned out to not be helpful at all when Freddie sauntered into the room with a bottle of wine held loosely in one hand.

She looked at him and arched her brow in a silent question as he pulled a corkscrew from his pocket and opened the wine with practiced ease. He grabbed a glass from the nearby stock and splashed a generous serving in it, then placed it within her reach.

"I thought we agreed to no more law books tonight," Freddie said sternly as he nudged the glass of wine towards her, then made his way to the globe bar and poured himself a stiffer drink.

Evangeline made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat as Freddie sipped his whiskey.

"This is a day for frivolities, not scheming," he reminded her with an imperious tone of voice as he took a longer sip.

"I agreed to not make you read anymore today, I made no such promises regarding myself," she deflected as she turned another page. But she accepted the glass of wine when she saw the label on the bottle and noticed that it was her favorite.

Freddie shook his head at her. "You make a terrible heathen," he mocked her.

Evangeline was scowling at Freddie when Erik entered the room with the violin and bow in his hands.

"Or perhaps you merely need more practice?" Freddie asked with an impish grin.

"What's this now?" Erik asked warily as he glanced between brother and sister.

Evangeline opened her mouth to lie, but Freddie beat her to it.

"I was just telling Eva that she should spend more time practicing her recital piece. Perhaps morning lessons alone are not enough. What do you think, tutor?" Freddie schemed.

Erik cleared his throat. "Evangeline has made great progress, but even a proficient musician must practice diligently before a performance," he commented vaguely.

Freddie nodded as if that settled things. "What a good chap! I heartily agree. So you'll have afternoon lessons as well, then" her brother directed towards her.

Evangeline opened her mouth to protest that Freddie did not make such choices for her and that she did not need his interference in her love life (or rather her lack thereof) but then her brother smirked at her and plucked the book from her lap.

"I was reading that!" she seethed at him with narrowed eyes. She'd make him pay for that tomorrow.

" 'Was' being the operative word in that sentence," Freddie articulated as he downed his drink, smacked his lips together, and grinned his insufferable grin at her.

And then Freddie patted a confused Erik on the back and left the room after waving his hand wildly in the air and calling out "toodle-oo."

"I wonder if one of these books details the usual punishment for the crime of fratricide," she hissed between clenched teeth.

Erik chuckled and stepped into the room. He set the violin aside and poured himself a drink. Evangeline took a sip of her wine while she internally debated if she should move down on the sofa since Freddie had left them, or if she should stay put to avoid drawing further attention her way.

She hadn't made a decision by the time that he finished pouring and tasting his drink as he took up his usual seat on the sofa and slung his arm loosely along the back of it. Unsure of what to do about him being so close to her while they were alone in the study, she took another sip of her wine.

"You two are very much alike," Erik said finally.

Evangeline paused and glanced at him but relaxed when she saw that there was no hint of mockery in his voice or in his expression.

"Yes," she agreed as she smiled at him softly, "how could we not be? He is the other half of my soul. We have shared everything all of our lives."

"Hmm…" Erik murmured as he sipped his drink.

She looked at him curiously and saw that he appeared contemplative.

"That's why it's so difficult to even just consider the idea of being torn from him so completely," she elaborated as she tipped her glass and watched the wine swirl around inside.

"Hence the legal books?" he probed between sips of his drink.

Erik relaxed in his seat and Evangeline was instantly aware of his fingers as they slid closer to her. If she leaned back then his hand would brush against her shoulder. She took a sip of wine to distract herself, because it wouldn't do to let him have the upper hand by knowing how much he was affecting her by sitting so close.

She shrugged and tried harder to appear nonchalant as she glanced at him again. "Our laws are antiquated when it comes to women and their inherent rights. I am not a piece of property to be passed from hand to hand based on a backroom deal and a handshake between two men. If I was married and then widowed a year later then my dowry and land grants would be mine to do with as I pleased. I just… can not understand the point of all that in-between nonsense."

"Can't you?" Erik asked with a curious voice.

Evangeline glanced at him warily and cut her eyes at him. "Oh? And do you plan to enlighten me?" she asked icily. If there was one thing that she hated above all others it was being condescended to by a man.

"Those with power often view equality as oppression of themselves," he said succinctly, and then he sipped from his drink again. His face was unreadable.

Evangeline mashed her lips together and glared at the wineglass in her hands as she mulled over his sentiment and tried to understand the full complexity of his meaning.

"If your means of independence are kept from you then you are that much easier to control until you are old and they have no further use for you," he added a moment later when she hadn't spoken.

Evangeline frowned and tried to hide it in her wine glass as she drained her cup. It sounded so depressing when he summarized it like that.

"So you intend to… what… sue your parents for your inheritance?" he asked her then.

She took a sip of her wine and sighed. "Ladies do not inherit," she corrected him. "We have a dowry, And if our fathers are very kind and generous and able, then we have land as a part of our dowry."

"And you have land," he inferred.

"Oh, yes, and rather a lot of it," she answered bluntly.

"But you do not own this land… yet," he guessed.

Evangeline shook her head. "I would not even own it if I were married. It would be my husband's property. And then upon his death then yes, it would finally be mine. If he didn't sell or lose or ruin it first by that point," she replied grimly.

"So you have no means of independence," he interjected.

Evangeline grabbed the wine bottle and refilled her glass to a dangerous level. "Probably not," she sighed as she took another sip. She was simply too tired of it all to be angry now. Anger would take far more energy than she could muster at that moment. Her future simply looked so bleak when it was summarized like that.

"You could marry someone very old," he offered.

She laughed and shook her head. "That's… that's not actually done, you know," she told him in shocked disbelief.

"No? No fair, young maidens married off to crotchety old men in their eighties?" he joked. "Alright, then. You could marry someone very stupid and easily managed," he added.

And then Evangeline did laugh. She felt the mellowing effects of the wine as it loosened the tight coil of anxiety within her. "That is exactly what my brother recommended," she admitted.

"Truthfully, though, there is no one who you might consider? I find it hard to believe that you could not have your choice of them," he mused.

She snorted and laughed into her cup as she took a long sip of wine. "They're horrible," she admitted softly with a wince. And then she let her eyes slide to him as she considered him.

"You haven't had much interaction with polite society, have you?" she inquired.

Belatedly she realized that her question could be taken as extremely rude. She blamed it on the wine, it always made her mind slower than her mouth.

"Not in England," he confirmed. And she was glad that his voice didn't have any hint of offense in it.

"In Venice?" She probed softly. He rarely spoke of himself, and suddenly she wondered what his life was like in Italy and why he'd left France.

"Not particularly. Although I do brush against it somewhat due to the nature of my work. But for the most part I am an eccentric recluse. I have a few cohorts who I work with from time to time, but much of my work is more behind the scenes," he explained. "Composing, and such," he added.

It was the most that he'd ever told her of his life before. Evangeline took another sip of wine and settled back into her seat. She turned slightly and tucked one leg underneath her so that they were facing one another more on the soda. Her neck hurt from always turning to look at him.

"Why is that?" she probed. Because the idea of him hiding himself and his music away from the world was baffling. She'd never heard such brilliance before. She'd never seen someone play or sing like him before, and she'd been to countless symphonies and operas in her many seasons in London.

He stared at her strangely as he took a sip from his own drink. "I'd think that would be obvious," he deflected and his eyes slid away from her. His voice held a hard edge to it that she'd never heard before.

It took her a moment to divine his meaning. "Ah, the mask," she said sadly as she glanced down at the wine glass in her hand. She'd grown so used to the mask over the weeks that they'd spent together that she hardly even noticed it anymore.

"Yes… the mask," he echoed. The hard glint in his voice was even harder now.

"I fail to see what it has to do with your music," she said finally. Perhaps it wasn't the most eloquent thing to say but it was honest and so few people got total, complete honesty from her. Would he even realize what it meant?

He shifted in his seat and his hand withdrew from where his fingers had been lightly brushing against her shoulder. Evangeline realized in their absence that she hadn't even been aware that they were sitting that close. Her head felt muddled and thick and she wished that she hadn't drunk so much because now she'd said something careless and he was upset with her. She wasn't sure why the thought distressed her so much.

"You would be the first," he said softly, but his voice was cold and his posture was stiff.

If it distressed him so much to speak of it then why would he mention it? She would have never mentioned it. Obviously if he took such an effort to cover whatever it hid, then it was not something that he wished to share with others. She could understand that sentiment very well. Evangeline stared at him openly in her confusion as she tried to find a way to tell him as much, but the wine was making it difficult to be eloquent. This was why she so rarely drank.

"Curious to see what's underneath?" he asked her. But even if the wine had made her stupid she wasn't so stupid as to not see through the thinly veiled trap of that particular offer.

It irritated her that he thought that she might be dense enough to say yes.

"Do you _want_ to show me?" she retorted, just as cold and hard. She'd not let him bully her about something that wasn't even her fault. It's not like she'd asked to see underneath the stupid mask.

Erik leaned back against the arm of the sofa. She wondered if he realized that he had withdrawn from her as much as he could without physically standing. It made her terribly sad for him that he seemed to be almost afraid of her in that moment.

"No," he uttered sternly.

She nodded and set her wineglass aside. A headache teased at her temple now. It was probably from the wine. She'd had more than enough for one evening. "Alright, then," she murmured as she leaned an elbow against the back of the sofa and threaded her hands through her hair and closed her eyes. The pressure of her fingers relieved the dull ache just a little.

_God save me from the idiocies of prideful men!_

They stayed like that a while and when Evangeline opened her eyes again she saw that Erik was studying her. She arched an eyebrow at him, which he ignored.

Her fingers landed on metal pins that held the mass of curls in place, and slowly she began to pull them from her hair. The small pile of pins in her lap grew as her hair tumbled down her back and the ache in her head subsided just a little.

"What are you doing?" he asked her in a strangled voice.

She looked at him curiously. "I have a headache," she replied, and suddenly she was reminded of another night when she'd had too much wine and they'd had this very same conversation.

"Evangeline..." he said softly.

And she closed her eyes at the sound of her name on his lips. It sounded like music whenever he said it like that. And it was completely unfair.

"Yes?" she replied, her voice a little husky.

She glanced at him and saw that his eyes were a little wide. Was he still frightened of her, then? But she thought that she'd made it clear that she had no intention of asking him to take his mask off. She had no desire to see whatever was underneath if he wished to keep it hidden. Let him keep his secrets to himself.

"It's getting late. Perhaps you should retire… and I will see you in the morning at your lessons," he recommended in a strangled voice.

Evangeline nodded. It _was_ late and she _was_ tired. "Goodnight, Erik," she murmured as she collected her hairpins and rose. And she didn't look back at him as she exited the room and headed towards the comforts of her bed.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Erik sat in the music room as he waited for Evangeline to join him for their morning lessons. It had been a week since that night when Freddie had left them alone together in the study. Evangeline had read through a dozen more law books in that time until Freddie had announced that they'd exhausted their father's library. The boy had offered to write to one of his trusted professors for assistance, and this small offer of hope had been the only thing that had kept Evangeline from a complete and utter meltdown. The letter had been mailed, and now they were all simply awaiting the reply.

In the meantime Erik had recommended that Evangeline should begin the process of choosing her piece for the recital. It was already May and they were only a mere two and a half months away from their end of summer event. The guests would begin to arrive by August and she needed the time to practice and commit the piece to memory.

Evangeline joined him finally and together they sat on the velvet sofa as they leafed through the family's collection of sheet music.

"How about Beethoven?" Erik inquired neutrally. He pulled a few sheets of music to the forefront of the pile for her consideration.

Evangeline sighed dramatically. "His work is so needlessly complicated sometimes," she muttered as she shoved the papers aside.

"Chopin?" she offered instead, and he considered it for a moment.

"A fine choice but you do not have a piece suitable to your skill level here. The pieces here are either far too simple or far too complicated," he corrected. He'd not allow her to play a piece that would not showcase her new talents. Her skills had grown in the last few weeks and he was proud of her progress, even if she would never be a concert pianist or a world renowned composer.

"It is hopeless," she sighed as she set the papers down and brushed a wayward strand of hair from her eyes roughly. He hated seeing her so miserable.

"Hmm…" Erik murmured as he grabbed another stack of papers and shuffled through them again.

"Ah!" he announced as he handed her a few pieces of sheet music. Perhaps this one? It was lovely enough. She seemed to prefer the slower, softer pieces rather than the punchier, more technical ones.

She took the papers from him and read the title. "Pachelbel's Canon in D? Is this a joke to you?" she asked in a horrified voice. Evangeline threw the papers down and Erik watched them in confusion as they scattered across the table.

"What?" he asked, confounded. "It is a lovely piece. The beginning is slow, to be sure, but it gains speed near the end and the left hand work is simple enough."

"It is also the wedding march," she seethed at him through clenched teeth.

He was taken aback as he glanced at the papers and set them to the back of the pile. "Ah…" he muttered under his breath. "I was… I was not aware…"

Evangeline glanced at him warily but her face lost its anger. She must have seen his confusion and regret. He'd have never added the song to the pile if he'd known. And how could he have? It's not as if he'd ever been invited to a wedding. Instead of yelling at him further, she buried her face in her hands and took a deep, shuddering breath. Tears made him uneasy. He'd have rather been yelled at a thousand times over if it meant he never had to see her weep another time. It always made him feel so completely useless.

Erik stared down at the papers on the table as Evangeline cried quietly beside him. When he placed his hand tentatively on her shoulder he let out a breath of relief that she did not shake him off, or snap at him, or storm off in a huff. Her rejection would have stung deeply.

But he was not at all prepared for her to slide sideways into his body and turn and bury her face against his chest. His heart thundered in his body as she wrapped one arm around his torso and clung to him.

Erik let his hand slide from her shoulder to her back as he cradled her to him in return. She felt so very small and childlike against him. He realized that it was easy to forget that she was so young still. She was hardly more that a few years older than Christine had been when… but he pushed those painful memories aside. It would not do to think of Christine now. There was nothing to be gained from _that_.

He was forty, and he should not be cradling this young woman to his chest and enjoying the way that she pressed against him as if she'd been made to fit there in the hollows of his body. He was fourteen years this girl's elder, and very soon she would be promised to another, and he should definitely not be taking pleasure in the way that her hair smelled like lavender or her soft body melted against his.

But as Evangeline clung to him and took comfort in his embrace, Erik couldn't help but wish that she never had to leave the circle of his arms. His fingers pressed into her back and his eyes closed of their own accord as he buried his face in her perfumed hair and tried to move her from his mind. But it was impossible and that thought terrified him more than anything.


	21. Chapter Twenty

Freddie was sitting in his father's study sorting his mail when Eva burst into the room.

"Anything?" she asked in a rushed and breathless voice. Had she actually run the whole way here when she'd heard that the post had been delivered?

Freddie turned and stared at her a moment before he returned back to his parcel of letters. He set the ribbon aside as his long, thin fingers sorted through the stack.

"Sit down before you faint," he ordered her in a bored voice as he flipped through the letters and read the return addresses on the backs of each of them.

Evangeline sighed dramatically and slumped onto the sofa in a huff.

"Here it is," he said finally as he read the return address that he had been looking for. He slid his letter opener underneath the wax seal and popped it free.

"What does it say?" she badgered him as she turned in her seat.

Freddie cast her a stern glance as he unfolded the papers. "If you would allow me a moment of peace and quiet I would read it and tell you," he grumbled.

Evangeline frowned at him and let air out through her nose as she crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently at him as she waited on the couch. He made a grand show of smoothing out every single wrinkle and fold as he first skimmed the letter, and then read through it again more slowly.

"It's postmarked two days after my letter was mailed to him. It is unlikely that he received my inquiry before he sent this one. We will have to wait for the next letter, I suppose," he explained as his eyes went back to skim a particular line again.

"I don't understand… if he had not received your letter yet then why has he written you?" she mused aloud.

Freddie folded the letter back up and set it aside nonchalantly as he moved to the next correspondence in his stack. "I do have friends, you know," he muttered.

Evangeline's mumbled non-verbal reply sounded from the general area behind him as he set the dull edge of the letter opener to the wax seal on his next letter. He'd just popped the red blob of wax free when Evangeline grabbed for the folded letter from his teacher.

"That letter is private!" he chided her as he reached to grab it from her hands.

Evangeline frowned at him as she jerked out of reach and unfolded the letter.

"We've never had secrets from one another before," she accused him with narrowed eyes.

Freddie felt the color drain from his face as her eyes skimmed the lines of text within.

"_Each passing day waxes more solemn than the next since you are not here next to me, my beloved,"_ she read aloud in a breathy voice as her eyes skimmed the rest of the page.

Evangeline's eyes widened as she read the letter over twice.

"Freddie, this is a love letter," she summarized.

Freddie winced and took the proffered, crinkled pages back. He folded it up and let it hang limply in his hand. "Yes… it is," he concurred.

Evangeline leaned against the desk and stared at him for a moment. "From your _professor_?" she clarified.

He nodded, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth as he blinked up at her. What was there to say? She'd read it all. And truthfully he was relieved. He had hated to keep this from her.

"This is more than just a… passing fancy, then," she surmised.

He nodded mutely and felt the pin pricking of tears at his eyes. It was all just so impossible. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

"Not that it matters," he said gloomily as his fingernail ran over the creases in the love letter and sharpened the folds. He knew that Evangeline was staring at him, but if he looked up at her and saw pity in her eyes then he knew that he'd be undone.

"And you return his affections?" she probed gently.

He scoffed, but there was no malice in it. "Isn't that obvious?"

She leaned her hip against the desk and took his hand in hers. Her thumb brushed the back of his hand softly.

"I always thought that falling in love would be the easy part," she murmured sadly.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he scoffed.

But Evangeline side stepped his rhetorical question. "Why did you feel that you must hide this from me?" she asked him. "I know the nature of your tastes better than anyone. Did you think that I would judge you for loving him?"

Freddie creased and uncreased a corner of the letter with his free hand. "I needed distance from it… to think. I… wanted to make some sort of decision about it before I told you," he reasoned.

Evangeline licked her lips and squeezed his other hand. "What decision?" she inquired softly.

Freddie cleared his throat as he considered how to phrase it. But there really was no way around it. "Jonathan has a younger sister," he began.

Evangeline nodded but her face was confused as she listened to him.

"Jonathan has broached the idea of my asking for his sister's hand as a way to masquerade our… being together," he admitted finally.

She bit her lower lip as she appeared to be considering what he'd said. "And what does this sister think? Would she agree to such an… arrangement?" she asked.

"She… ah… she doesn't know," Freddie confessed.

Evangeline let go of his hand and struck him painfully in his arm. "Freddie!" she yelled at him between gritted teeth. "How could you even consider such a terrible deception?"

Freddie winced and rubbed his smarting arm. "I know!" he whined. "Believe me... I know. I'm greedy, and terrible, and an absolutely rotten cur. But Evangeline, I love him, and I'm not good enough to be selfless and give him up," he moaned despondently.

It was all just so bloody impossible. Why did their lives have to be so tragic? He'd wished for years that he could be a normal boy like all the others. But he wasn't. When other boys his age had started to speak about sneaking peeks at girl's ankles when they were younger, or tupping whores in alleys when they were older, he'd thought that there must be something terribly wrong with him. Because he'd never once felt that way about a woman.

And now Evangeline wasn't even looking at him. She was staring off into space as his life was falling apart all around him. Why would God have made him this way if it was wrong? How could his desires be so unnatural when he knew that he and Jonathan loved each other? And if it was so wrong, then why did it feel so perfect when they were together?

"Freddie, this could work," she said suddenly.

"What?" he replied, surprised.

She smiled at him and it was the first time since that day at the waterfall that she looked completely happy and content. The sparkle was back in her eye. "Don't you see? The idea is solid, just backwards," she added vaguely.

"Let me get this straight," he deadpanned. "You just socked me on the arm, rather fiercely I might add, and now Jonathan's idea has merit? Make up your mind, Evangeline," he grumbled irritably.

"No, you lackwit dolt. You have it all backwards. It's incorrigible of you two to cuckold his poor sister. But perhaps we can _all_ solve each other's dilemmas," she added in an excited voice as she clapped her hands together.

Freddie stared up at her as the pieces fell into place. How had he not seen it before? But then again, she'd always been the clever one.

"Now, write him back," she demanded as she pulled a fresh piece of parchment from a stack and set the ink pen in his hand.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

Evangeline couldn't contain her excitement as Freddie placed the finishing touches on his reply to Jonathan. Idly she wondered how that relationship had developed and how they'd found one another out, but that would be a story for another day. Right now they needed to focus and strategize. They only had an hour left before she was due for her afternoon music lesson with Erik.

Her heart skipped a beat as she considered their new plan and all of its implications. A husband who had no need of a wife. It could be perfect. It might just work. She'd have the freedom to do as she mostly pleased. Freddie's lover would never take her to his bed, force her to bear his children, or saddle her maids with his bastards. And if Freddie was in love with him, then she was very nearly certain that she would like him very much as well. She would have the respectability to do as she pleased and live how she wished. And Freddie would remain a constant in her life. The details of their arrangement was still a little fuzzy. She hadn't planned for everything yet. How could she have? The brilliant idea had only just come to her a moment ago. Mother would still expect Freddie to marry and provide an heir or two to continue the family line. But it was the beginning of a plan and it gave her hope.

"There," Freddie said as he handed the paper to her to read. "Careful! You'll smudge the ink," he chided her unnecessarily.

Evangeline cut her eyes at him in disbelief before she set her gaze to the parchment and read their reply letter. He'd kept it vague, as she'd asked, in case the letter was read by someone other than its intended. The reply stated Freddie's desire for Jonathan to meet his twin sister, whom was most sympathetic and doting, and their boredom at their family's country estate. And wouldn't a nice little sojourn to Jonathan's family's beachfront property be a delightful respite from the coming summer heat? A postscript at the end added that the legal books that Freddie had previously mentioned were no longer needed.

"Perfect," she proclaimed happily as she placed the letter back down on the desk and rolled the blotter over it carefully. With deft hands she folded it neatly and sealed it with wax then stamped it with their family seal as Freddie added the delivery address with his neat script.

Freddie grabbed her about the waist and pulled her into his side as they grinned at each other.

Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. This really, might just actually work.

* * *

Evangeline could not keep her emotions under control at her afternoon music lessons with Erik. He stared at her curiously, but said nothing as she followed his instructions to the letter without fail. Her left hand kept pace with her right, her wrists and elbows were fluid and lithe, and her palms never rested lazily upon the piano.

At the end of the lesson he praised her openly for the first time that summer and she smiled up at him earnestly in response.

Her heart skipped a beat everytime that their eyes met. And she wondered if he felt the same way that she felt whenever they sat so close to one another. He made excuses to touch her. He'd rested his fingers on her bared shoulder that one night, although to her disappointment she'd been too tipsy to notice it at the time, and he'd held her just this morning when she'd been upset. He hadn't turned her away or stiffened at her touch. And she wasn't a total fool. She saw the way that he looked at her whenever he saw her with her hair down. But how did one make the transition from friend to… more? Her stomach somersaulted at the thought.

She considered Freddie's advice. No wonder her brother had been so quick to give his stamp of approval. He was in roughly the same situation as her. He had his own infatuation with a teacher to deal with. No wonder he hadn't seemed shocked or alarmed.

Evangeline let the last note of the song fade away and glanced up at Erik. Uncertainty and self consciousness settled into her and she felt terribly off-kilter as she tried to figure out what came next. She was suddenly quite sure that she was not prepared for this at all.

* * *

When Celeste helped Evangeline change into her gown for dinner her maid looked at her with curious eyes.

"You are in such high spirits today, _mademoiselle_," Celeste remarked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Evangeline smiled at the girl in the mirror as her maid played with her hair.

"I will wear it down today, Celeste," she ordered as her maid's deft fingers halted mid pin.

"Down... for dinner? Shall I curl it and pull it away from your face?" the girl asked tentatively.

Evangeline nodded and watched as Celeste obeyed her orders. Her hair was curled and pulled away from her face to cascade in a carefully pinned waterfall of ringlets and braids down her back. It looked whimsical and simple despite the sheer number of pins that it had taken to keep it in place. One would never know how carefully it had been constructed just by looking at it. God bless French maids, they were worth their weight in gold.

"It's perfect," she declared once Celeste had finished.

The maid curtsied and busied herself with putting things away as Evangeline tucked a wayward strand of hair back into place.

She might not know how to actively seduce a man, but she could certainly give it a try. After all, if Freddie had done it then how hard could it be?


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

Erik was not prepared for the sudden change in Evangeline. It had been a week of this new and baffling behavior, and each day unsettled him even more than the next. One morning she'd been crying on him and utterly despondent over her upcoming nuptials, and the next she was happily practicing the piano and smiling up at him. If he didn't know better... but he did... he _did_ know better. She was far from her reach even if she pretended otherwise. She was not for him. Even if she flirted with him and teased him. Surely it could not be anything more than the passing fancies of a spoiled girl who was used to being adored and had no one else to fawn over her except for an elderly Aunt and a twin brother and a household of servants. But the thought of her so carelessly using him for her own personal ambitions chafed at him. He would have liked to think that he knew her better by now. And yet, whenever she smiled at him or brushed against him on the piano bench or sofa he felt like an utterly besotted fool who was at her total mercy.

She'd told him once that he knew nothing. Perhaps she was more correct than she'd known. He'd have done anything for her, had she only thought to ask. Did she understand what sway she'd put him under? How uncharacteristic it was of him? He was not some young fop to be herded into compliance with a carefully crafted smile. He'd been a man of power in Persia. An entire country had feared his name. He'd made an opera house full of people live in the terror of his whims and fancies. He's built great buildings across Europe. And now here he was, in England, being led about and managed by some slip of a girl? _It will not do! _

He only had a few more weeks left before he could return to his simple life in Venice. He'd go back to his quiet, sunny home, his music, and his solitude. He'd return to his weekly dinners with the Persian and his work. How long had it even been since he'd composed something new? This wasn't like him at all. He did not abandon his muse to go cavorting about with debutants in the woods.

Erik vowed that beginning tonight he would keep his distance. He would do his job, collect his pay, and wash his hands of English plots of matrimonial intrigue.

But then the hours had passed and it was dinnertime suddenly.

When Erik saw Evangeline step into the parlor for dinner that night he could have groaned at the sight of her. Her hair hung in golden curls down her back and she smiled at him like a perfect, impish little coquette when their eyes met across the room. She'd worn her hair down like this all week and it was driving him utterly mad.

His fingers itched to thread themselves through her golden curls. He wanted to let the feel of her silken hair glide over the rough skin of his hands as his fingers tightened at the base of her neck. _I would pull her head back until her lithe neck arched and she'd be forced to stare up into my eyes. And then I'd step closer and take pleasure in the gasping sound of her breath as she melted against me. Her breasts would press against my front as our hips would bump together as I step into her. She'd raise a hand to my chest, as if to push me away, but it would be just as soft and pliant as it was when she played for me. Her lips would part in surprise and her eyes would widen just a little as she glances up at me, unsure and just a little intimidated as I tower over her. I'll hold her there, against me, with my hand fisted tightly in her hair, so that it tugs against her as she raises up on her toes and presses her petal soft lips against mine._

He swallowed thickly as he tried not to stare at her. How long had he already been looking? He'd lost track. Roughly he pushed the fantasy aside as he fought the urge to run a nervous hand through his hair or straighten his already impeccable clothes.

Evangeline smiled her dazzling smile up at him and the corner of her mouth tipped up in a saucy grin as her cheek dimpled on one side.

"Good evening, Erik," she murmured in a velvet voice that set him on edge as much as it made him want to bask in its sweetness.

Did she have any idea what she did to him when she said his name like that? He tipped his head forward politely in response but couldn't fight the stiffening of his shoulders. Erik swallowed thickly and clamped down on his resolve. He was not some schoolboy fawning over a pretty face. He was the phantom of the opera, the feared and reviled sorcerer assassin, the living death. He was Erik. And Erik bent others to his will through fear, and trickery, and subterfuge. _I will not let this spoiled minx wrap me around her little finger. _

"Good evening, Eva," he said cooly.

The elderly aunt snorted in her sleep from somewhere to his right and he realized his mistake too late. Erik watched the corners of Evangeline's eyes crinkle as her smile deepened and the realization that he'd used the brother's nickname for her washed over him. The traitorous feeling in his throat and stomach washed over him again as she smiled up at him with satisfaction on her lips and mischief in her eyes.

Erik knew one thing with utter certainty as he stared down at her; that whatever machiavellian plans she had for him did not bode well for his intention of a quiet future.

Freddie joined them just a moment afterwards and then like usual the quartet made their way to dinner. Erik suffered silently through the soup course, taking only one careful and polite sip, so he was ravenous when the main course was finally delivered. Roasted lamb with mint sauce and herbed potatoes. The fine foods upstairs were worth the stilted, awkward conversation as the elderly aunt prodded him for information about his life in Venice and Freddie and Evangeline exchanged pointed looks filled with silent communication.

How could two people say so much to one another without speaking a single word?

Erik chewed his last bite of lamb and nearly sighed in contentment as he washed it down with a sip of wine.

"How are you enjoying England?" the old woman asked him.

Erik considered his response for a moment and used his wine as a pretense for delay. How should he answer? Should he be honest? Say that he hated England with its oftentimes dreary weather, and its bland food, and the boorishness of this secluded country manor?

His eyes drifted of their own accord to Evangeline who was mirroring him by taking a sip of her own wine. She licked a bead of the sweet, white wine from her lips as she stared at him and Erik felt his back stiffen at the sight of that pink tongue darting out against her rosy lips.

He glanced back over to the old woman and met her gaze. "It has its own sense of… charm," he deflected politely.

"Well, I suppose that you were not afforded much of an opportunity to see the splendors of our country," the old woman mused out loud.

"Pfft," Freddie added rudely. "What my dear old auntie is saying is that the countryside here is so dreadfully boring but you really can not judge us on our hillsides and forests alone. London is where all of the excitement is, truly."

"You would like the opera house, and theater, and the many art galleries," Evangeline added with a little smile.

"I doubt that I will have much time for sightseeing during my return trip at the end of the summer," Erik retorted evenly.

In just a few more weeks he would be free of England and free of that girl's dimpled smiles and coy glances. He'd be released from the feeling of her at his side at the piano, and the smell of her lavender scented hair. He'd return to the safety of his empty home, and the quiet of his boring routine. So why did that thought suddenly come tinged with a hint of regret? It unsettled him further and Erik shifted in his seat.

"A pity," Evangeline mused. "There are so many beautiful sights to see in London. It is too bad that we are trapped here for the entirety of the season," she lamented.

"Hmm…" Freddie murmured as he rubbed his chin and a curious look passed between the two twins. "I say, but are we?" the boy asked.

"Now, now," the matron chided them gently, "your mother and father made their wishes perfectly clear that you are to remain far away from London this season."

Erik glanced between the old woman and the twins as Freddie leaned forward onto his elbows on the table.

"Dear Auntie, you wound me!" the boy mocked. "I know mother's wishes perfectly well. But even mother couldn't deny that the summers here are so dreadfully hot and dull. Perhaps a jaunt to the sea would cheer my sister up and make her more jovial for the upcoming musicale?"

The old woman narrowed her eyes at Freddie.

"Say, Freddie, do you not have a dear old friend from school who has a lovely estate by the coast?" Evangeline added sweetly.

"Indeed, my dearest sister, a dear old _bachelor_ friend… with six thousand a year and two grand estates," Freddie elaborated as he drummed the fingers of his other hand against the table.

Erik surveyed Evangeline with calculating eyes. What new trickery was this? Would they never cease? It seemed that it was always some new scheme whenever those two were concerned. Apparently Aunt Mabel was just as unimpressed as the old woman cast her withering glare to the both of them and huffed in her chair. But the small smile on the old woman's face belied her narrowed eyes.

"Oh enough, already. You two wilful children will do as you wish regardless of my opinion on the matter," the old woman scoffed.

Erik took another sip of his wine as he glanced between the three of them. Freddie and Evangeline seemed entirely too pleased with themselves.

"But Evangeline's music lessons must continue," the old aunt ordered. "Or your mother would have my head…" she muttered softly to herself.

Evangeline smiled and her cheek dimpled as her eyes found his across the table. "Naturally," she agreed easily. "We'll bring my music tutor with us."

And then she looked at him as if she'd won some game with rules that only she knew.

Erik took another sip of his wine and tried to tamp down the sense of unease that wrapped around him.

* * *

The next day was a whirlwind of packing and preparations as the household moved in an efficient buzz of organized activity. Steamer trunks were pulled out from storage and clothing and other odds and ends were packed carefully within.

Erik watched as his own trunk of things was added to the pile. He stared at the growing mountain of luggage and wondered just how long the twins expected them all to be gone. August was merely a month away now. Surely they planned to return before that.

"Carefully!" Erik yelled as he watched a footman nearly drop the trunk that contained his instruments. Evangeline had insisted that they bring the Stradivarius. Erik had wanted to balk at bringing it through such changes in climate since anything could happen to it on the journey, but she'd been relentless. And, truthfully, Erik would never really have been able to refuse the temptation of bringing it with them. Who knew how long they'd be gone?

Evangeline swept into the room in a white gauzy dress and nodded to the servants as her maid dogged her heels. She grinned at him briefly before she turned to the old Butler who was orchestrating the entire thing.

Erik side eyed her as he pretended to check the time on his pocket watch.

"Are we ready yet?" She asked the old servant in an eager sounding voice.

"Nearly, my lady," Butler answered succinctly.

Erik clicked his watch closed and stowed it away in his pocket.

"Good," she answered as she nodded and moved to stand near Erik as the pile of luggage was carried out to the waiting carriages.

"Are we ready yet?" Freddie asked as he popped through the same doorway that Evangeline had just entered through a moment ago.

Butler turned towards the boy and bowed his head, "very nearly, my lord."

"Very good," Freddie said with a grin.

Another trunk was picked up by two footmen and carried out.

"_Mademoiselle_!" a French accented voice called out. A pretty young maid entered through the very same doorway. Erik watched as the maid joined them in the foyer with a large straw hat clutched in her hands.

"Your hat!" the maid chided gently.

Evangeline smiled at the girl and took the hat from her hands. "Thank you, Celeste," she murmured.

A loud thump and some loud yelling sounded from the direction of the driveway.

"Oh dear," Evangeline groaned. The butler left them to join the group outside.

Erik gritted his teeth and hoped that the blasted fools hadn't dropped the trunk with the instruments.

"Celeste, would you mind helping Butler supervise?" Evangeline asked as she set her straw hat on her swept up hair and pinned it into place with a sharp looking jewel tipped pin.

Celeste nodded once and bobbed a quick curtsey to the occupants of the room before flitting out into the mayhem of the driveway with a sureness to her step and squared off shoulders.

"Eva, did you really need to pack so much?" Freddie complained as footmen carried out the last of the trunks.

Evangeline merely stuck her tongue out at her brother in reply as she fixed her hair underneath her hat.

Another loud thump sounded from outside, and this time Celeste's voice followed it. Evangeline and Erik sighed at the same time.

"_Merde! Regarde ce que tu fais!"_ the maid scolded the footmen loudly as her voice echoed into the house from outside.

Erik eyed the open doorway with some interest as he angled himself to watch the goings on outside. The maid had her hands fisted on her hips and was scowling at a particularly sheepish looking young footman.

The boy bent and tried to lift his end of the trunk again. It was halfway up when the boy's arms gave out again and the other footman barely caught his end of the trunk to keep it from sliding into the boy's face and bloodying the poor servant's nose.

"Jesus, Eva, what did you pack in that one?" Freddie scoffed.

Erik turned his attention in time to see Evangeline glare at her brother. "Celeste managed the packing, brother, so if you take offense at how the trunks are organized then I suggest that you take it up with her," she retorted imperiously.

"With the way that she's yelling at those footmen?" Freddie guffawed. "I hardly think so."

"Coward," Evangeline teased as she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear with a grin.

Freddie nodded. "Absolutely," he agreed.

A third footman joined the two who struggled with the trunk. But still they were only able to lift it halfway up the carriage before they too were forced to drop it back to the ground.

"_Ce n'est pas si difficile!" _the maid nagged the footmen, who were looking rather chagrined and red in the face.

"We'll never make it there in time for dinner at this rate," Freddie groaned.

Erik shook his head and decided that he'd seen enough. Without pausing to think about it he unbuttoned and peeled his jacket off and thrust the garment into the startled hands of Evangeline as he undid the cuffs of his shirtsleeves and rolled the sleeves up on his forearms. He abandoned Evangeline and Freddie and made his way out onto the gravel driveway where he shooed the thinnest footman aside and gestured for the other two to grab the other end.

The footmen merely stared at him in surprise as Erik bent his knees and grasped the leather handles.

"Well... what are you waiting for, an invitation?" the maid scolded the men again, this time in English.

When the two footmen grabbed a handle each and bent their legs to mimic Erik he counted to three and then together they hoisted the trunk up into place on the carriage. He felt the muscles in his back and shoulders strain under the heavy, solid weight as they set a corner into place and he shoved it up enough until he was certain that it wouldn't topple right back down once he let go.

What the hell had she packed, half the library? Erik shook his head. He certainly wouldn't put it past her.

The footmen busied themselves with tying it all down now that the last trunk was in place. Erik wiped his sweaty hands onto his thighs and turned to see Evangeline and Freddie watching him curiously from the doorway.

Something inside of him was intensely pleased with the expression on her face as she gripped his coat in her hands and looked him up and down unabashedly. Erik made a show of rolling his sleeves back down and cuffing the now rumpled fabric back into place. He fought to contain the smile on his face when she grinned at him until that cheek dimpled once more. But then he was left to wonder what the expression on her face had really meant when his gaze slid left and he saw the Freddie was staring at him with the same, strange intensity. Erik made his way back over to the twins and murmured his thanks as he took his creased jacket back from Evangeline. As he slid it back into place and buttoned it closed again he was startled by Freddie's clap on the back as the boy slid past him.

"Well! This certainly won't be dull," the boy proclaimed cheekily with a laugh.

"Indeed," Evangeline agreed in a honeyed, velvet voice.

How could she lace so much unspoken promise into a single word?

Erik held his arm out for her to take up. "Shall we?"

She grinned at him even wider until both sides of her cheeks dimpled. "Oh, yes," she laughed. "Let's do this."


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

Freddie checked his pocket watch for the thousandth time since they'd started their journey to the coast. By his estimation they were nearly there. And the end of their journey couldn't come soon enough as far as he was concerned. He'd had enough of Erik and his sister making eyes at each other across the carriage. Did they think that they were being subtle? He hoped not. There was nothing subtle about either of them.

Eva and that French maid were sitting together on one side of the carriage while he was jammed uncomfortably next to the music tutor on the other side. His sister had her nose in another one of her books while the maid embroidered something onto a scrap of fabric. It looked like roses. What on Earth would they do with more pink roses? He'd just decided that he didn't care enough to ask when the carriage hit a bump and jostled them all about.

His foot jiggled impatiently as his eyes lifted from the pocket watch to the view outside scenery through the tiny carriage window. He could see the shoreline already. How close were they? Surely they were close.

Eva's foot slipped forward and kicked him lightly as she turned another page of her book.

He took the unspoken chastisement in stride as he forced his leg to be still. The carriage jostled them again and swayed down the winding beach side road as he checked his watch again for the one thousand and one time. He patted his coat pocket where Jonathan's folded up reply was tucked away to ensure that it was still where he'd stashed it within his coat. And then he let his fingers strum against the wall of the carriage.

Eva sighed and set her book into her lap as she reached out with one hand and took up his own. Freddie let her thread her fingers through his and calmed at the familiar, soothing touch as she held his hand.

"How can you…" he started, baffled that she could be so calm when he felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest in excitement. How could she be so calm, when everything hinged on this visit?

"I am," she answered vaguely as she turned another page of her book.

He glanced at her and saw that she was being honest. She wasn't nervous at all. Freddie allowed himself to settle a bit, and was startled when the music tutor sighed deeply on the bench next to him. He wanted to grumble at him, but Freddie refrained. What did that man know, anyways? The tutor didn't know how important this all was.

Freddie forced himself to still. He knew that this was just nerves. Except that he just couldn't fathom how to remain calm when everything depended on this visit.

"But what if…" he started, but he couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence. Dread settled in his stomach like a ball of lead. It threatened to choke him and make him sick all at once. What if it didn't work? What if Eva hated Jonathan? What if Jonathan hated Eva?

"It won't," she soothed him. She turned another page in the book that was propped open in her lap. Her fingers squeezed his again and he felt the knot of tension unwind a little. Could it work? Would it work? Dear God, he hoped so.

He was startled when she spoke again. "Anyways it does not matter. We are here," she proclaimed as she marked her place with a ribbon, shut the book, and handed it to her maid. The carriage rolled to a stop a moment later.

Freddie looked out the window and saw Jonathan standing and waving at them on the threshold of his grand beach estate.

He couldn't keep the grin from his face as the ball of dread and worry melted away. Maybe it really would be alright. Maybe their plan would actually work.

Freddie clambered out of the carriage as soon as the door was opened. He didn't even pause to help his sister out. She'd manage it just fine, he surmised.

Jonathan greeted him with a firm hug and a clapping on his back as they embraced.

"I am very glad to see you," Jonathan whispered against his ear in hushed tones.

Freddie squeezed his lover's bicep and managed, just barely, to pull himself away. There were servants everywhere as the household busied itself with unpacking the carriage and it wouldn't do to get caught up when they were so close to making it all work.

"Me too," he agreed as he forced himself to separate away and fisted a hand on his hip as Eva approached them.

"Jonathan, this is my sister, Evangeline," Freddie introduced them.

Jonathan reached out and took his sister's hand up and raised it to his lips. "I have heard so much about you," his lover murmured as he placed a chaste kiss against the back of her hand.

Eva laughed and took up freddie's arm in her own as Jonathan released her.

"Do not believe a word of it, it's all lies," she ordered conspiratorially with a grin and a wink.

Jonathan's mouth twitched in a smile as Freddie glanced between the two of them nervously.

"Eva, this is Jonathan Holland, the Baron of Lighton," he introduced them.

Eva nodded her head and dipped into a tiny curtsey. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord Lighton."

"Jonathan, please," the man ordered gently.

"Evangeline, then, since we are friends already," she answered in return.

Freddie glanced between the two of them and grinned. Well, it seemed it was going very well indeed. Why had he been so nervous?


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

Eva sighed happily as a cool sea breeze wafted through the sheer voile curtains of her guest room window. The salty, briny air cleared her head and the wind cooled her skin. This place was heaven compared to the stifling heat of her family's landlocked country estate. She felt free and truly happy for the first time in weeks.

Jonathan had given them the grand tour of the estate, and then directed them to their respective rooms. He and Freddie had then run off somewhere and left her to her own devices. Celeste had busied herself with unpacking straight away and setting out a gown for that evening's dinner. Everything was wrinkled from the journey and her maid tutted over every crease and fold as if they were a personal affront.

A knock sounded at the door and startled both girls from where they stood.

Celeste looked to Evangeline who shrugged. She was not expecting anyone. It seemed unlikely that either Freddie or Jonathan would peel themselves away from one another before the evening meal.

The maid left the dress and its wrinkles to open the door just a crack. "_Oui_?"

"I've come to escort your mistress to her music lesson," Erik said through the crack in the door.

Evangeline cocked her head, surprised, as she pulled the hat pin from her hat and set both aside on the desk by the window. Did he really mean for her to join him for their afternoon lessons today? After all of that traveling?

"_Mais non, ma maîtresse est fatiguée,"_ Celeste refused as she shook her head and made to shut the door in his face.

Erik's hand gripped the edge of the door and pushed it open wider instead.

"Your mistress is not so tired that she can not manage a half an hour of piano," he contradicted. "I really must insist."

"It is alright, Celeste," Evangeline called out as her maid looked at her in panic. She had to keep herself from grinning like a madwoman as the door widened further and Erik hovered on the threshold of her borrowed room. Would he burst his way into the room and haul her out if she refused? She was nearly tempted to put him to the test and see just what he'd do. Her stomach fluttered wildly as he regarded her quietly from the doorway.

"You take your duties very seriously, maestro," she kidded as she crossed the room and tucked her arm through his. She clasped her hands together around his arm and leaned against him fully, and she smiled when he tensed.

"I have a job to do," he deflected warily.

Evangeline grinned up at him. She just couldn't help herself when he made it so easy like this. "I wonder if you give such rapt attention to all matters in your life," she murmured in a knowing tone of voice as they made their way down the hall towards the music room.

She hadn't thought that it was possible but he stiffened against her even more. He'd been doing that so much lately. This entire last week he'd been cool and aloof. But she saw the way that his eyes tracked her. She knew that he was not unaffected by her. So why the newfound hesitation and resistance? She thought that they were past all of this.

Erik led her down the hallway to the music room that Jonathan had showed them earlier in their tour. It was smaller than her family's music room, but it held the requisite piano so it would do just fine. Evangeline leaned against him even more and lowered her voice to barely above a whisper so that he would have to strain to hear her.

"Or am I the cause of this... special interest" she inquired as she plastered an inquisitive, sincere look upon her face.

He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye but was silent as he led her over to the piano and motioned for her to sit alone as he took his place standing beside the instrument.

"Why so silent, good _monsieur_?" she pouted at him a she lifted the lid off the keys and set her thumb to middle C.

Erik cast her a withering glare as he tapped the sheet music in a silent command.

Evangeline glanced at the papers and stifled a groan. Bach Prelude No 1. She hated Bach. Well, now he was just being petty. She cut her eyes up at him and saw that he seemed terribly pleased with himself.

"As my maestro commands," she said snidely as she began to play the song. It came out just as terrible as she expected it would. She really hated Bach.

His feedback was short and clipped as he leaned against the piano and stared at everything in the room but her.

She played dutifully until the half hour was passed and finally he turned his head to look at her.

"Have you picked your recital piece yet?" he asked.

Evangeline let her fingers pause as she stroked the fine, glossy wood of the piano.

"I was thinking of Tchaikovsky," she admitted softly.

He raised a brow as his amber eyes met hers. "A fine choice. Any piece in particular?"

"Song number seven from his Album for the Young," she answered as she carefully kept her expression neutral.

His face scrunched in confusion as he considered her for a moment.

"Play it for me," he commanded.

Evangeline set her fingers back into place and let the slow, sad song begin. She was only two bars in when she saw the shift on his face as he recognized the tune.

"The Doll's Funeral? Be serious, Eva," he chided her as he reached forward to grab the papers from the piano's stand and tucked the stacks of sheet music away into a leather folio.

She glanced up at him at the use of her nickname. He'd grown so distant lately, yet he used her nickname like they'd been lifelong friends. He'd held her at arm's length for the past week, but then he stared at her like she was the only other person in the world. He'd been avoiding her, but then he'd sought her out. She wondered at his newly acquired internal conflict, at this new reticence that made him decline after-dinner-drinks in the study and afternoon walks in the garden. He'd always accepted the invitations so easily before.

But mostly, she wondered why she cared so much. Was it this man in particular who she wanted? True, he'd been the first to really catch her interest. But surely he couldn't be the only one. Her confidence wavered as he looked at anything but her as he organized his folio of music. Was she really just a job to him? Would he leave, once he had finished? Should she feel this hurt at the idea of it all?

"I am always serious," she mocked as she let her fingers drift lightly along the lipped edges of the ivory keys.

"Hardly," he snorted as he closed the folio and wound a cord around it to hold it all together.

She glanced up at him sharply. Was that it, then? Did he think that she was lying? Feigning her interest in him? True, that may have been how it had started. She'd teased him to make him nervous so that he would want to leave. But that was hardly the case now.

Freddie had asked her once what she saw in the strange, masked music tutor. She had said that he'd merely caught her interest and she found him to be an amusing distraction. That was true. But there was more to it now that she hadn't wanted to admit out loud to anyone for fear of making it all too real. She liked Erik because he looked, on the outside, as broken as she felt inside. Her eyes flickered to the mask as she surveyed his face and posture for any hint of his emotions. She'd always been good at reading people. He was simply a little harder than most. But she had always enjoyed a challenge.

When his eyes slid back over to her she saw the wary look of trepidation on his face. His posture was stiff. Clearly he'd known that she was staring at him. But his eyes met hers evenly in a silent challenge. He dared her to look. Yet there was hesitation around his eyes and mouth. His lips were pressed a little too thin and he looked like he was waiting for a trap to be sprung. Did that make her the predator, then, if he was acting like the prey? The idea made her want to laugh, but she knew that he would take it wrong and it would ruin everything right now. Did he have any idea how uncertain and unsure he made her feel?

Evangeline stared at him openly as she considered this strange, enticing man before her. What cruel, young, beautiful thing had made him so afraid of women? She saw his worth. Was she the only one who could see it? The idea was not entirely unappealing. Let them all keep their handsome, summer husbands to themselves. Those men bored her and made her want to scream. No, she wanted this beautiful, dark creature for her own.

Now, how to win him to her?

His expression stiffened even more as they stared one another down. She'd been gawking at him for far too long now, and he looked as if he was ready to bolt at any moment. So Evangeline made her decision quickly. She set her fingers back into place on the keys and began to play again. Her fingers fell into the familiar patterns as she shared something with him that she'd never even shared with Freddie. It had always just been hers, before. But perhaps… perhaps it could be theirs? The idea made her stomach flutter and her heart race nervously.

She wrapped the both of them in music as she played her lullaby for him, and when the song ended she bridged it back around and began it all over again in a higher key until it sounded like a faerie glade in the little seashore music room, as if Queen Titania could stride into the room at any moment on the arm of her horned King Oberon.

Evangeline glanced back up at him and saw the confusion on his face as he watched her play.

"What is this piece?" he asked. "I've never heard it before."

She glanced back down as her hands played the familiar song. Evangeline had committed it to muscle memory so long ago. Her heart flopped into her stomach as she found her words. If he was unkind now, then it would all be for naught, but at least then she would know where they stood, one way or another.

"This one is mine, actually," she answered softly as her playing diverged into a more elaborate bridge and the song altered once again.

Erik was staring at her with rapt fascination as if he'd never seen her before and the expression on his face bolstered her courage.

"I am always serious, Erik, especially when I am lying. For instance, when we first met I told you that I was a passable pianist. I lied, I am proficient. I merely prefer to play when no one is listening."

He stepped around the piano and she paused her playing in order to make room for him on the bench.

"Don't stop on my account," he said as he sat down beside her.

Hesitantly she set her hands back to the piano and picked the song back up exactly where she'd left it. It was easy enough to do when it felt like an old friend.

Four more bars of the song passed and then he turned towards her on the bench. "You should play this, then, at the recital," he insisted.

Her playing stopped abruptly as terror filled her. "No," she refused vehemently.

Erik stared at her in confusion. "I don't understand," he admitted finally after a long moment.

Evangeline pulled her hands from the keys and set them in her lap as she considered her words carefully. She desperately needed him to understand, and she was terrified to muck it all up. She bit and teased her lip as she found five different ways to phrase it, and then discarded all of them.

Finally she turned towards him on the bench. "My mother only sees my worth in what I can offer to others. My entire life has been devoted to others. My parents, my siblings, my friends, my tutors... my future husband. I was taught the skills of a proper young lady. I can sew and embroider and tat lace. I ride and hunt and shoot archery. But did you know that I also speak three other languages? French, that's typical enough, some Italian, because it's easy to learn another romance language when you know one, and Russian, because they have the best swear words and I liked their drunken alphabet."

Erik laughed, and the sound of his rolling, infectious laughter startled her from her depressing monologue.

She couldn't help but laugh, too, in return. "It's true!" she protested. "Don't make me prove it," she added cheekily.

"Alright, I believe you," he relented once he'd stopped laughing.

Evangeline smiled up at him before she looked away. Why was it easier to bare your soul when you weren't staring into someone's eyes?

"I learned to play because I was told that I must. But when I started to show real talent at it my mother's interest became fierce and determined. I realized then that the piano would just be another weapon in her arsenal. Another skill to market to someone other than myself. I was never just allowed to enjoy something for the sake of taking pleasure in it. So I pretended to be merely adequate. I chased my tutors away, and I practiced when no one was there to listen. Because finally something was mine. And if she knew about it, then she would try to take it from me, or she would find some way to ruin it."

He was silent for a while as her words settled.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked her gently.

Evangeline caught his gaze and smiled sadly up at him. "Because I thought that you might understand what it is like for people to see you, and have an idea of you in their minds, without ever really knowing you."

He withdrew from her slightly as if she'd scolded him and she wondered what she'd said wrong. Fear settled into her stomach once more. Had she misjudged him so grossly?

"You know nothing of me or my life," he countered defensively.

She twisted more on the piano bench so that she was facing him better. Her thigh brushed against him and he withdrew to the edge of the bench as if she'd slapped him instead. One hand dropped to grip the edge of the bench as her other hand reached out to grasp his. It trembled faintly in her own, and the knowledge that he was just as frightened right now soothed her just a little.

"I know you," she told him. "I see the man behind the mask."

He leaned towards her and his fingers curled around her own, and for a moment he looked as if he might close the distance between them and kiss her. She wondered how his lips would feel on hers. Would they be soft and sweet, or crushing and consuming? There was a passion that ran deep within him. She'd caught glimpses of it on occasion. And it terrified her in the most pleasant of ways. It set a fire deep inside of her that she'd never felt before.

"What game is this, now?" he asked, suddenly suspicious as he leaned away from her and let his eyes roam her face.

And it filled her with such bitter disappointment. It felt like someone had poured cold water over her head. The budding embers were extinguished.

She'd just laid her soul bare to him. And still, he was unconvinced. Disappointment filled her and a lump settled itself in her throat. And suddenly it was hard to breathe. The pricking of unshed tears made her flinch. Was he really that blind to the truth of her? Or perhaps he saw but found her wanting even still. Maybe she'd misread everything because she had simply wanted it so fiercely. She withdrew her hand from his. He let her fingers go and leaned away from him.

"No game," she said truthfully. "I've won her game already. I've found a husband who has no need for a wife."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Must you always speak in riddles?"

She smiled at him then, but it was false and sad. "Well, you didn't seem to appreciate my honesty or earnestness…" she said softly as she rose from the bench and fled the room without another word.

He called out after her, but she couldn't stop. She refused to let him see how deep he'd cut her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of having so much power over her.

Her heart felt like it was shattering and she placed a hand against her breast as if that act could hold it all together. He didn't understand her at all. She had been wrong. Completely, and utterly, terribly wrong. And now it was all ruined and she felt so alone again. She was always alone, in the end.

A traitorous tear slipped free and rolled down her cheek before she could let her cold mask of indifference slide back firmly into place. She wiped it away roughly with the back of her hand as she made her way back to her borrowed guest room in a lovely house that didn't feel like her home.

* * *

Celeste helped Evangeline dress for dinner. The evening gown had been pressed and fluffed and she'd snapped at her maid twice already.

Evangeline closed her eyes and forced the unshed tears away through sheer willpower alone.

"I am sorry, Celeste," she apologized when the maid looked at her with wide eyes. "I am merely overtired from the journey. Tomorrow promises to be better," she lied.

Celeste nodded and set out the evening's set of jewelry without another word.

Evangeline looked at her reflection in the mirror and piled her mass of hair up onto her head. She turned her head from side to side to study the effect.

"Pin it up tonight, please," she ordered softly.

"_Oui, mademoiselle,_" Celeste agreed as the girl set the topaz necklace aside and pulled the hair pins out from a vanity drawer.

Evangeline shut her eyes and tried to keep her mind pleasantly blank as Celeste brushed and pinned and coiffed her hair into a sophisticated updo. A few short pieces were left undone to soften the otherwise severe effect.

The maid hooked the necklace into place around her throat, then handed the matching earrings over to her. Evangeline stabbed them into place in the holes in her ears and nodded at the effect. She looked well enough, even if her eyes lacked their usual sparkle and her smile looked forced.

Celeste made herself scarce without being asked as Evangeline rose from the vanity to pull the sheer curtain away from the window and stare outside. The sun was setting and she took a moment to just look out at the beautiful scenery before her. It really was a beautiful estate on a lovely bit of property. Perhaps in time it would feel more like home. They could summer here, when they tired of the busy London life and all of its smog and smells and heat. It would be just her, and Freddie, and Jonathan. Perhaps the sister if she proved amiable. And it would be enough. It had to be. As the sun disappeared into the rolling waves Evangeline let the curtains fall back together as she turned away from the window.

She was late for dinner.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

Erik tied and re-tied his cravat three times, then straightened his waist coat twice, then checked his pocket watch yet again for the tenth time that evening. He had fifteen minutes until he needed to be waiting in the sitting room for dinner. He refused to arrive early and be forced into small talk with Freddie and their host. The Baron had said only a few words to him since they'd all arrived, and Erik intended to keep it that way if he could.

Once he'd exhausted all of the grooming that he could do and he'd straightened his room for the second time that evening (not that it had needed it the first time) he admitted that he was really just stalling now. He felt foolish and a little perturbed as he shook his head at himself and decided to just head down towards the sitting room. The sooner that dinner was over, then the sooner that he could excuse himself for the evening. And the longer that he stood here with nothing but a quiet, empty room, the more that he thought of the events of the afternoon music lesson with Eva.

His head was still reeling a little as he replayed their conversation over and over again in his head. She was quite the accomplished little liar, and she'd admitted just as much to him. But then she'd had the gall to get upset about it when he'd called her out on it. His stomach sank at the thought. For a moment there it had looked like she'd been about to kiss him. Would she have let him? If he hadn't ruined the moment? How far would she take her lies? His stomach twisted into a knot and he wondered for the fifth time that evening if he should just beg off and skip dinner. He'd gone hungry before. One evening without a meal certainly wouldn't kill him.

But some sad, sick, self-flagellating part of him still wanted to see her. Even if she wasn't for him. Even if was cruel. He needed to see her, to prove to himself that he'd been right to be wary.

Erik left his room and shut the door behind him as he made his way to the sitting room. Freddie and the Baron were already inside, drinks in hand, and heads bowed close together in quiet conversation as they stood by the unlit fireplace. Both men looked up at him and stepped apart slightly as he joined them.

"Ah, old chap, there you are," Freddie greeted him warmly. The boy, ever the gracious host even when it wasn't his home, poured him a tumblr of some dark amber liquid and handed it to him without being prompted.

"Jonathan, Erik here is quite the accomplished musician. He's come all the way from Venice to teach my darling sister how to play the piano. And he is doing an excellent job of it. We no longer need to stuff our ears with cotton whenever she practices," the boy joked.

Erik glanced at the brother and wondered if he was just as accomplished a liar as his sister.

The Baron nodded and smiled at him as he sipped on his own cut crystal glass of whiskey. "A pleasure," the man said politely. "I have been to Venice before, both for business and for pleasure. It's a delightful city. Very… freeing," the Baron added as he and Freddie glanced at one another.

"Indeed," Erik replied diplomatically. "I find the Venetians to be a very accepting people," he agreed as he thought back on his small circle of friends and fellow musicians.

"Well said," the Baron agreed warmly.

"I have never been, although it sounds as though I should," Freddie lamented good naturedly.

The two young men exchanged a glance. "You would enjoy it immensely. Perhaps one day we shall all go there together on holiday. You would enjoy their street festivals. We could go for Carnivale. Everyone dresses in costume. You could be anyone at all. And so much debauchery spills out into the streets, all night long," the Baron elaborated with a hearty chuckle and an impish grin.

"Oh! How exciting," Freddie concurred with a wicked grin of his own.

Erik, unsure of what to say or add to this strange conversation, settled for pretending to observe the Baron's displayed artwork while he sipped his drink as the two men talked of painted masks, and fireworks, and free-flowing wine. He was staring at a seascape of two gulls perched on a piece of driftwood when Evangeline finally joined their group. He smelled her lavender perfume before he heard the rustling of her gown which announced her presence into the room.

"What say you, sister? How does a honeymoon full of Venetian debauchery sound?" Freddie inquired playfully.

"Rather trite, don't you think?" She deflected with an icy voice.

Erik turned slowly and took her appearance in. She stood regally and stiffly next to her rumpled brother. He only caught Freddie's sideways glance towards him (it was a brief look that only lasted a second or two before the boy looked away again just as quickly) because he was already in the process of turning about to face them.

Freddie stared down at his sister with an expression of confusion before the boy busied himself with taking a sip of his own drink.

"Perhaps… perhaps I was mistaken, then," Freddie murmured into his drink.

"There will be ample time to discuss the specifics," the Baron interrupted politely, much to everyone's relief.

Evangeline's smile was dazzling as she stepped forward between the Baron and her brother and grabbed up the Baron's arm into the crook of her own.

"Now, Jonathan, you simply must tell me absolutely everything about yourself," she ordered the man with mock severity as she threw him a charming, enticing smile. Her cheek dimpled at the corner.

The Baron laughed and the tension in the room broke. "Of course, my dear, but first let's be seated. And you can interrogate me over the soup course. Cook has made a bisque tonight and she'll be utterly heartbroken if we let her hard work grow cold while we stand about and chat out here," the Baron insisted.

Erik and Freddie glanced at one another as they watched the Baron lead Evangeline by the arm into dinner. Both gentlemen drained their glasses before abandoning their now empty tumblers aside on whatever flat surface was readily available.

He sighed quietly to himself. Why was there always so much soup?

Erik was afraid that it was going to be a very, very long dinner indeed.

* * *

Erik stood on the upstairs balcony of his small room as he watched Evangeline and the Baron stroll arm in arm around the attached garden. He lifted the crystal cut tumbler of whiskey to his lips and took another long sip. It burned a path of fire down his throat with each swallow until it landed solidly to spread its warmth in his gut. She hadn't said two words to him all dinner, and she'd barely glanced his way even when he'd spoken. Instead, she'd only had eyes for the Baron.

He took another sip, and then a third, and then he nearly drained his glass.

He realized, on some level, that this was the way that it should be. She was a beautiful, young woman. She would marry an equally beautiful (or at least very rich) young man. The Baron was both, much to Erik's displeasure. And together they would have beautiful, rich, spoiled children who would then one day marry other beautiful, rich, spoiled people. That was the way that the world worked. He'd accepted that. It had taken him the better of forty years, but he was over his young man's ideations of love and romance. He'd left that nonsense behind him in France and he and the world were better off for him having done so.

The whiskey burned a patch down his throat and dulled the roaring in his head as he swallowed.

He had his music, and his quiet sunny flat, and his weekly dinners with the Persian, and the respect of his peers. It was enough. It made him happy. He couldn't wait to return to it all.

Erik watched the moonlit figures in the quiet, empty garden. Evangeline threw her head back and laughed and the sound of it echoed up to him like a mockery of his anguish. They were sitting on a bench together and her hand was tucked neatly into that rich fop's grip. Their shoulders bumped together as she leaned against him and dipped her head to listen to something that he'd just said. The words were too soft for him to hear from up here. But he could see the smile on her face from where he stood up on the balcony.

The empty glass shattered in his hand and Erik looked down at the mess that he'd created. A sharp sliver of glass was embedded in his palm, and as he pulled it free he pressed his thumb against the wound to staunch the bleeding. Blood and whiskey muddled together and dripped down onto the balcony railing. His palm stung as the alcohol burned his laceration. But Erik didn't care about the pain.

What was a flesh wound when he felt like his heart had just been ripped into two?


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Author's Note:** There are quite a lot of mature themes in this story which are just now coming into motion. In accordance with FF's policies adult themes have been toned down. You may read the unedited version on A O X3 under the same story name. If you need help locating the story please message me for a link.

* * *

Freddie paced in Eva's room as he waited for her to come back from her after dinner walk in the garden with Jonathan. To everyone else it would look like a romantic beginning to a proper courtship. But Freddie knew better. Eva would be grilling his lover to find out if this man was worthy of them. Freddie knew that he shouldn't be worried, but he couldn't help it. Eva was the planner, Freddie was the worrier, and they'd always fulfilled their roles perfectly in the past.

She'd been so strange at dinner and he hoped that she hadn't changed her mind. What would he do if she did?

So he hoped, and he worried, and he paced in her room while he waited.

The door opened and Eva stepped inside. She didn't even appear surprised to see him standing there waiting for her. Freddie's heart was beating wildly in his throat as he looked at his sister for some sign of approval. She grinned at him and closed the door behind her softly.

"He's wonderful," she announced.

Freddie released the breath that he'd been holding as he crossed the room, took up her hands in his, and pulled her backwards to perch on the edge of the bed with him.

"He is, isn't he?" Freddie sighed.

"He's quite in love with you, you know," she inferred with a small smile on her lips.

Freddie beamed at her and felt the blush as it bloomed across his face. "Well… naturally... what's not to love?" he joked. He felt so giddy and wildly hopeful that this scheme might actually work that for a moment he thought that he might actually vomit. Eva shoved at his shoulder playfully, which only made him grin wider.

"I can see no other motive, other than the fact that he is utterly besotted with you. He has six thousand a year and another larger estate. For all that he is just a Baron his intake nearly matches father's. Apparently the shipping business with Australia is highly profitable, not to mention his position at the university," she summarized.

"Oh, good God, Eva. Don't tell me that you just spent the last two hours grilling him about his earnings," Freddie moaned.

Eva snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, I spent the first hour grilling him about his intentions with you, the next half hour pressing him for details about his expectations of me, and only the last half hour was ensuring that he is a suitable candidate at all. Which is for your benefit as much as it is for mine, so you're welcome," she retorted with sharp jabs into his chest to punctuate her points.

Freddie took a long, deep breath and chewed his lower lip. "And?" he asked, and then he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Eva smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "And we have agreed that a Christmas wedding should keep mother busy enough that she won't be able to find a way to ruin it all for everyone."

Freddie pulled her against him in a crushing hug as Eva kissed his cheek. He buried his face in her lavender scented hair and only let her go after she'd patted him on the back to signal that she'd had quite enough of that.

"I don't know how to thank you enough," he muttered as he smiled at her like a fool.

"Just promise me that you'll be happy, and that will be enough for me," she said softly.

Freddie nodded and kissed her cheek again.

"Now, Freddie, Jonathan is aware that he must come up to the estate for the end of summer party. I'm sure that father will extend an invitation if you ask. But we must be very careful to let things progress as if it is naturally occurring. Still, I think that mother will be dazzled enough that she can hardly find him lacking. He is utterly charming," Eva detailed.

He nodded wildly. He'd have agreed to just about anything right in that moment. "Yes. Talk to father. Secure an invite. I can manage that," he echoed.

"Go, I know that you want to… celebrate," she edged as she shoved his shoulder playfully and grinned at him.

Freddie rose from the bed and leaned down to place one last kiss against his sister's cheek before he practically ran from the room.

It was an easy enough thing to slip quietly into Jonathan's rooms. The hour was late and everyone else, it seemed, was in bed. There weren't even any servants about to dodge. Not that he'd have been capable of caring in that moment. He was just too damned deliriously happy. Jonathan turned and grinned at him when the door opened. Freddie slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. His lover's cravat was untied and the top button of his shirt was already undone.

Freddie crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed the dangling ends of that cravat, and pulled his lover's face down towards his. Their lips met in a familiar kiss as Jonathan let go of the cuff that he'd been undoing in order to thread his fingers through Freddie's hair.

His lips parted as Jonathan's tongue flicked lightly against his lower lip. And then their mouths were both open and their tongues were wrapping around each other's as Freddie dropped his hand to work on Jonathan's next shirt button. The stiffly starched shirt crumpled in his hands as he undid each button, then pulled the garment free from his lover's pants. He let his fingers trail over Jonathan's flat stomach as the firmly planted fingers in his hair held their mouths together.

The suspenders were next as Freddie deftly unsnapped them. Jonathan's tongue wrapped around his own and Freddie tilted his head to let the kiss deepen even more as his fingers moved to the button of the pants next. They separated and set about removing the rest of their clothing.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Jonathan asked him in a warm, sultry voice.

Freddie smiled impishly up at him in return. "I have some idea, yes," he replied cheekily.

Jonathan's lips twitched in amusement before his face settled into a look of mock severity.

"On your knees, on the bed," the man ordered in a rough voice.

Oh yes, they had quite a lot of celebrating to do.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Evangeline laid in her bed and stared up through the dark at the unfamiliar ceiling. She pulled the plush bedding around herself until she was wrapped in its cocoon as she turned onto her side and tried to force herself to sleep. The events of the day plagued her and she tried to convince herself that she was simply overtired from the journey. It had gone relatively well, all things considered. Jonathan was a delight, her brother was ecstatically happy, and in less than six months she would have her freedom. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to ignore the ache in her gut and the heaviness in her heart. Dinner should have been wonderful, yet the food turned to ashes in her mouth and sat heavily in her stomach. She'd forced herself to eat, to keep up appearances, but now she regretted it as she tossed and turned and was restless in her bed.

She rolled onto her other side and wrapped the blankets around herself. The soft mattress dipped beneath her as she curled up on herself and hugged her knees to her chest.

The soft, dull roar of the waves crashing and breaking just outside of her room should have been soothing, but the strange sounds of a house that was not her home merely added to her growing feelings of unease.

How could she have been so blind? How could she have been so stupid? A tear leaked from the corner of her eye before she could stop it. Evangeline rubbed it away. She'd done enough crying now for a lifetime, thank you very much. Besides, it wasn't like the tears would change anything anyways. Evangeline flopped back onto her back and stared up at the strange and unfamiliar ceiling in the moonlit dark.

With a sigh, and before she could think about it too much she threw the covers back and let her feet drop to the floor. She slid them into her slippers, then stood and grabbed up her muslin wrapper from where it was hanging on the bedpost. She tied it about herself and knotted it firmly around her waist.

If she was not going to get a decent night's sleep then she'd at least find something to occupy her time. She needed a distraction -anything, really- to keep the thoughts of Erik from her ruminating mind.

The house was quiet as she slipped from her bedroom and padded down the hallway as quietly as she could manage. The unfamiliar floorboards squeaked underneath her feet, but the sound was drowned out by the crashing waves of the rolling ocean. She was sure that no one would hear her exploration. Her path to the back garden was clear as she made her way through the dark, silent house.

Evangeline threw the bolt of the terrace door open, then cracked the door and slipped out into the night.

The ocean breeze teased at her hair and whipped long strands into her face as she made her way carefully down the cut stone stairs that led down to the sandy beaches below.

Her slippers slid haphazardly on the shifting sand, so she bent down and pulled them off before throwing them carelessly aside. The sand was cool and soft beneath her feet as she dodged piles of seaweed and made her way down to where the water spilled onto the shore.

She watched the waves roll in and out as they left ropes of foam in their wake. The ocean moved to its own soothing, steady rhythm. It was hypnotizing. She watched as the foam was absorbed down into the sand just in time for the next wave to bring forth more to replace it. The wind teased at her hair and chilled her through the thin, gauzy materials of her nightdress and wrapper. But she merely wrapped herself in it even tighter. There was no point in going back inside just yet. She'd feared she'd get no rest tonight.

Evangeline stared at the reflection of the moon in the waters and the rolling, crashing waves for what felt like hours until her eyes felt heavy and her heart felt lighter. There was something comforting about feeling so small amidst such natural splendor. The quiet, dark, empty beach was soothing and finally she felt the tension in her shoulders give way as her hurt faded and left nothing but fatigue and weariness behind.

Once she felt adequately tired enough to return and try to sleep again she turned to head back to the house, but her slippers were nowhere to be found.

"Here," a soft voice called out from the dark by the stone wall that divided the gardens from the beach.

Evangeline looked up sharply as Erik stepped forward into the light with her slippers grasped in his outstretched hand. They stared at one another for a moment in the moonlight.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked finally as she took her slippers from him.

"I could ask the same of you. It isn't safe for you to be out here all alone," he evaded in a stern voice.

Evangeline's eyes sharpened at him as her lips pursed in a thin line. How dare he assume that he knew what was best for her. And how dare he think that he had the right to chastise her like she was some wayward child.

"Ah, yes, I am in ever so much danger from the crabs and sandpipers," she replied sarcastically as she rolled her eyes at him and held her slippers loosely at her side.

"There are much more dangerous things that go bump in the night than crustaceans and birds," he countered.

She snorted unladylike in reply. Well, now he was just being so absolutely preposterous.

"Are you always such an alarmist?" she inquired rudely in a lilting voice. It might have been playful and teasing if her tone hadn't been so cold and her gaze so sharp. "We are alone here. The estate is quite secluded."

"And are you always so willfully ignorant?" he countered in a similar fashion. The honeyed lilt of his words merely masked the cold steel underneath. "That is exactly my point."

Evangeline flicked her hair back over her shoulder, and out of her eyes, as she stared at him in silent defiance.

"Or perhaps you merely like the thrill of danger. That is the only conclusion that makes sense to me," he added in a thoughtful voice.

"And what do you care about my well being, anyways? You are my music tutor, and nothing more, and you do not have the right to speak to me that way," she snapped at him as her frustration got the better of her. He had a lot of nerve if he thought that he could rebuke her timid advances and then pretend to care about her afterwards.

"Your arrogance will be your undoing," he prophesied.

Evangeline bristled at his rudeness. How dare he speak to her like that. Well, let him say or think whatever he wanted, but she certainly didn't have to stay here and listen to it. But she realized that her feet were covered in sand and she would need to step onto the stone staircase before she could brush them clean and put her slippers back on. Evangeline side stepped towards the stairs, but Erik moved into her path and blocked her way.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked indignantly as she stared up at him in shock.

"Foolish," he intoned gruffly as he stepped forward towards her intimidatingly.

Evangeline licked her suddenly dry lips and fought the urge to take a step backwards as he invaded her space. She refused to shrink away from him like some cowering wallflower. Even if her stomach flip flopped wildly and her heart was racing in her chest as he closed the difference between them ominously.

"Willful, spoiled child," he asserted as he took another step towards her.

Her hands clenched and crushed her slippers as he stoked the anger and hurt within her with his cruel, corrosive words. It wasn't bad enough that he'd rejected her advances, had rejected her, but now he needed her to know just how much she sickened him? It was too much to bear. And she desperately needed to hurt him as much as he was hurting her right now.

"Are we laying each other's faults on the table, now? Shall we go over a few of yours?" she cajoled as she squared her shoulders off and stared up at him unflinchingly. His amber eyes flashed brightly even in the dark.

"I am sure that you can enlighten me," he chuckled, and the sound of his sarcastic mirth irked her and stoked her anger even more.

"You, sir, are a coward," she asserted.

He grinned down at her. "I've been called much worse. You'll need to do better than that," he answered blandly.

Her face flushed in anger and she took a step towards him in the sand. "You run from everything, and everyone, and you've convinced yourself that it's better this way," she elaborated. "That you are better for it. But really, it's just cowardice. What was her name? The woman who ruined you for all others? The one who made you think that all of us are vipers?"

"What makes you so certain that-" he started.

"-It's obvious, really. I've seen the way that you look at me. And yet you're terrified. You're so scared of it, in fact, that you're cruel in your recent attempts to push me away. Well consider it accomplished! I'll not force you to endure my company for a single moment longer if it is so abhorrent or offensive to you and your sensibilities," she interrupted him. She swallowed thickly past the lump that was forming in her throat as she swallowed back her angry tears.

"You play at games like people are pawns in a game of chess, to move about your board as you please," he accused her.

Evangeline scowled at him and crushed the slippers in her hands and dropped them carelessly onto the sandy beach. They'd surely be ruined now, but she couldn't have cared less at the moment. She counted to ten as she bundled up her rage and stuffed it down until it could be managed. Her words were calm and even now, and far more dangerous.

"What scares you, Erik? Being denied what you want most of all… or getting it and regretting all that wasted time?" she said softly. "Because no one but a woman could have cut you so deeply, I think. You don't seem the type to care much about the opinions of other men."

"You know nothing of me, or my life, you little lying Delilah," he intoned again more forcefully.

There was real anger in his voice this time, and his jaw was clenched tightly like it did whenever he was thoroughly irritated with her. It pleased her to know that he was as angry as she was now. She'd cried too much today. Anger was far easier to deal with.

Evangeline let her eyes roam over him as her rage cooled to a white heat inside of her. She was all calm on the outside, and burning hot inside. "So you've said, and yet I've struck a cord," she crowed in mock delight as she took a step forward and closed the miniscule gap between them. She poked a finger into his chest and she enjoyed the way that he flinched when she made contact.

"And I've been called much worse than that, before. You'll need to do better than that," she echoed his words from earlier.

Evangeline remembered the names that her friends had called her. Shameful... wanton... slut. If she strained hard enough she could still hear the whispers that followed her through every social event. The conversations that stopped when she entered a room. The looks that the men gave her- full of leering wonder and amusement. And the looks that the ladies gave her- full of embarrassment or smug superiority. She'd taken it all in stride with her head held high, even as each look and whisper and cruel remark had cut her to her core. They'd been her friends, until she'd needed them, and then they had abandoned her.

"You claimed that you were being sincere earlier… but I don't think that word means what you think it means," he argued.

His words pulled her from her introspective thoughts. "Freedom from deceit, duplicity, or hypocrisy," she defined dryly. I can assure you that my father spared no expense for my education."

"To the detriment of all of us, I'm sure…" he muttered under his breath.

Evangeline's glare renewed itself. "Because of my sex, you mean? My mother was of the same mind. She saw little need for governesses and tutors beyond my childhood years. Once I could read and write and speak French I'd learned enough for her tastes. Thank goodness that was not her decision to make… or yours, it seems."

Her anger turned sour in her stomach as it was laced with dread and resignation. So he thought her to be not only cruel, but foolish and stupid as well? How had she misjudged him so poorly? How had she ever considered… Pinpricks of tears threatened her again as Evangeline tried desperately to regain her sense of control. Her rage evaporated, leaving her merely tired and sad and feeling utterly alone for the second time that day.

He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he ran a hand through his wind tousled hair, messing it further.

"You are the most willfully obstinate creature that I have ever met," he choked out.

Evangeline sighed and closed her eyes and counted to ten. Her breathing evened out and the pricking of tears subsided as anger and sorrow were replaced with melancholy resignation. "If you've had your fill of insulting me now then move aside and let me pass," she ordered calmly.

He gripped her by the upper arm instead, and he'd moved so quickly that it startled her a little. She hoped that he hadn't seen her flinch. Her heart hammered in her chest and her eyes widened in surprise as he held her firmly in place in front of him.

"You'll not run away from me before I've finished this time," he declared forcefully.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at him even as her heart fluttered erratically while he towered over her. But instead of fear there was only excitement. Perhaps he was right… perhaps she did enjoy a good brush with danger. But there was so much more to it than that. It was him. She wanted him in the most carnal, basic way possible. Even with his cruel words and bland indifference. And she was ashamed that his cruelty towards her hadn't diminish her desire for him at all. What did that say about her, after all, if she enjoyed his darkness and found it exciting?

He gripped her arm firmly but his fingers didn't dig or hurt.

Evangeline tipped her chin up defiantly as she stared up at his towering frame. "But I have finished speaking with you," she retorted icily.

"Good. Then you can listen, instead, for once," he countered brusquely.

She pursed her lips together as she glared up at him. Evangeline refused to give him the satisfaction of cowering before him. His grip on her arm shifted slightly, but never lessened.

"You tease and taunt and offer things that are not yours to give," he started.

Evangeline parted her lips to inform him just how wrong he was. She was her own person and her body was hers to do with as she liked. But he silenced her with an evil glare of his own. Her mouth snapped shut so abruptly that her teeth clicked together as she narrowed her eyes at him in silent defiance. She stuck the tip of her tongue between her teeth and bit down lightly as she stared up mulishly at him.

"You make false promises and tempt powers which should not be trifled with. And I am not such an honest or respectable man that I would be able to force myself to refuse it if it were offered to me a second time. So I am warning you, you foolish girl, that you should not provoke me with things that you do not mean."

She gaped at him as if she'd never seen him before as pieces clicked into place and understanding flooded her. Her mouth made a round 'O' in surprise. His rejection of her floundering advances was… an act of conscience? Some misguided sense of propriety? The thought made her want to laugh. Of all of the men that she could have set her sights on she'd chosen the only one that might not be comfortable with such an arrangement. The thought made her want to scream in frustration. This was far worse than believing that he simply held no real affection for her. To come so close and be denied… it was unbearable.

Erik continued onward before she could interrupt him. "And, as if that is not bad enough, here we are having this discussion in the very house of the man that I assume you plan to one day marry?"

"A husband that has no want of a wife," she murmured before she could stop herself.

Erik closed his eyes and sighed as if she was exhausting him. Evangeline found the concept completely irksome. After all, she was not the one who was waffling here. He wanted her… he didn't… but he did. He was the one who was exhausting. She breathed out loudly through her nose and felt her anger and sadness leave her. Only curiosity and surprise remained behind now.

"So… just to summarize…" she interrupted him before he could speak again. "You fancy me."

Erik looked at her with an exasperated expression on his face. "Isn't that obvious?" he asked in a pained voice.

His eyes were wide and frightened and honest as he stared down at her on the moonlit beach.

Evangeline stared at him incredulously as her heart felt near to bursting in her chest now. It beat a wild, staccato rhythm against her ribs until she feared that it was so loud that he would hear it and know how much he affected her. She tried to find the correct words, the right phrasing, but it all alluded her. Her head felt thick and dull and stupid. But… perhaps eloquence wasn't completely necessary here. In fact, hadn't her careful phrasing before just made him more suspicious of her motivations?

"You fancy me… but you chose not to act on it… because of a sense of propriety and… decency," she stumbled through the foreign concepts.

Erik's grip slackened on her arm although his hand did not withdraw from her completely.

She stared up at him in wonder until a bubble of mirth escaped her before she could contain it. His face darkened as she laughed and her eyes widened further in surprise when his hand dropped away from her and he began to turn away to leave.

Evangeline reached up and grabbed his sleeve in an unthinking act of desperation. It was her turn to stop him from fleeing from her now.

"Don't," she begged him. "Please… I didn't mean to… I… you just surprised me, is all," she confessed. And she cursed the careless way that she stumbled over her words. He didn't understand, and for once she had no idea how to make him.

"Evangeline," he whispered in a pained voice that brimmed with unspoken emotion as he tried to shake his head and pull away from her.

"Stop! Don't go," she pleaded. "Because I haven't finished speaking yet, and for once you are going to listen," she threw his own words back at him as her fingers gripped the unyielding arm beneath his shirt sleeve.

Erik turned back to face her warily and Evangeline saw that this was her one opportunity. She would not be afforded another one.

"Everything that I have done here has been for this… for… us," she added warily as she saw the look of disbelief on his face. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest as her tongue felt thick and useless in her dry mouth. And why were her palms sweating? She'd never felt so nervous before.

"And now that I have finally figured out a way to have everything and lose nothing, your damned misguided sense of nobility has rather made a mess of it all. It's rather ironic, actually. And if it wasn't happening to me then I might find it all quite amusing," she added with a wry smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Erik raised a timid hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as they stared at one another. The pad of his thumb brushed her cheek and ear in the process as his fingertips rested lightly on the side of her neck. Could he feel her pulse? Did he know how fast and hard her heart was beating right now?

Her lips felt dry as she licked them and considered how to make him understand. But he hadn't left yet. She had no illusions that she could really hold him here if he wanted to leave. He towered at least a good half a foot over her head. And she was rather tall for a woman. She'd be no match for him if he threw her hand off of him and stormed up the stone stairs to the house.

"My sense of… nobility, you say," he murmured. He sounded surprised and confused.

Evangeline smiled timidly as his fingers threaded themselves into the tangles of her hair at the back of her neck.

"Well… I suppose that my stubbornness may have added to it a bit as well," she added diplomatically.

"A bit?" he scoffed.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at him but the quirking of her lips softened the expression from cold to mischevious.

"I make no apologies," she added imperiously. "You knew what you were getting into."

"And what of your fiance?" Erik probed dangerously.

"That is for me to worry about, Erik. And besides, as I've told you twice now Jonathan has no need for a wife. He will not care in the slightest so long as there is no scandal to disrupt his business dealings," she reassured him.

Erik looked unconvinced as his eyes scanned her figure unabashedly.

Evangeline stiffened as his gaze lingered over the swell of her breasts. She blushed, and was surprised by it.

"I find that difficult to believe," he argued as his fingers threaded themselves more thoroughly into her hair to rest at the nape of her neck.

"You will simply need to trust me, then," she evaded as her fingers tightened in return on his arm. But there was no need for it because he wasn't trying to turn away from her, now.

The upturn of Erik's lopsided grin turned serious. "Speak plainly, Evangeline, I've grown impatient with your games."

Evangeline felt the sting of his careless barb as the blow landed a direct hit. After all of this, and he still thought that she was that cold and manipulative? She could get indignant, call him callous, turn on her heel and leave him there on the beach with his solitude and the moonlight and the waves… but it would gain her nothing more substantial than her pride, and it could possibly lose her everything. Perhaps, instead of breaking against one another, both of them could stand to bend a little.

"No games, Erik. But I can not speak more plainly than I already have. It is not my place to share this confidence. You will simply need to trust me. Or don't, and walk away right now instead. But know this- that it would not be my fault this time. I do not want you to turn away from me and leave."

Erik looked down at her, and Evangeline felt the tension that thrummed between them as they regarded one another silently. He seemed to be looking for something in her face, although she could not have guessed what it was.

"How?" he asked in a strangled voice as his eyes searched hers for some hidden truth or betrayal.

Her forehead crinkled in confusion at the pained look on his face. How… what? But he said nothing further. Erik just stared at her blankly with his haunted look.

"What?" she asked.

"How can you look beyond it?" he whispered.

"Oh…" she sighed.

And suddenly she knew to what he was referring. She let her other hand rise up very slowly and obviously until her fingertips ghosted along the smooth, polished surface of his leather mask. His shoulders trembled and his nostrils flared as he stared at her wildly like a frightened animal. The whites of his eyes shone as he stood very still before her except for the fine shaking of his shoulders and arms.

Evangeline traced the soft curve along his jaw and the high, sharply angled cheekbone of the leather. It was warm underneath her touch, which surprised her. Although perhaps it shouldn't have.

"One aspect of you does not define your entire worth, Erik. You're more than that," she murmured as his fingers released themselves from her hair and trailed along the line of her shoulder and outstretched arm until his hand cupped hers and pressed her hand flat against his mask. Palm to cheek and fingers trailing from nose to forehead around his eyes, except that she wasn't touching him at all, really.

"It is twisted and vile underneath," he warned her roughly.

"I suppose so," she murmured in a soothing, gentle voice. "Or else you wouldn't wear it."

He glanced at her warily and released her hand.

She realized that he was leaving it up to her, then. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the mask where leather met skin. Her pinky found the wire that held it all in place. He made no move in either direction as she rested her hand against the warm, carved leather mask. The decision was hers to make, even though the thought appeared to frighten him more than she'd ever seen him be scared before.

Evangeline let her fingers drop down his mask to his neck and further still until her palm rested against the flat, muscled plane of his chest instead. The tension in his shoulders eased and his body nearly sighed in relief when her fingers abandoned their exploration of his mask. He acted as if she'd touched him intimately. Evangeline thought about it for a moment longer and determined that perhaps she had. He wore it like a sort of armor. It must have cost him dearly to let her near enough to take it from him. Nevermind that she'd never do such a thing. Perhaps he trusted her more than he'd admitted to himself.

"Aren't you curious?" he dared her now that her fingers were a safe distance away from it.

Evangeline shrugged and stared up at him with an inquisitive expression.

"Do you want me to see?" she queried back, amused.

He shook his head mournfully and the haunted look returned to his eyes.

Evangeline teased the topmost mother of pearl button open until her thumb found the gap that she'd created in his shirt and they were touching skin to skin. She caressed the hollow of his throat and enjoyed the way that he looked down at her as the haunted look left, leaving only heat and intensity behind.

"Alright, then," she said as she dropped the subject with some finality and switched gears. Evangeline stepped further into his space until she had to tilt her head back even more to keep his gaze.

"You overthink things too much," she whispered softly in the honeyed voice that always made his eyes widen.

His chest was firm and well muscled underneath her hand and at this distance, or lack thereof, she could smell his cologne. What was it? Something earthy and foreign. Amber, perhaps. The smell of him, male and pleasant, sent a throbbing ache throughout her body.

"Tell me to leave," he ordered her. His voice was soft and breathy.

Evangeline splayed her fingers against his chest and let her thumb brush the skin that peaked through the gap that she'd made in his shirt.

"You talk too much, too" she murmured.

Erik dipped his head down towards her and Evangeline felt her breathing hitch as he stopped just a hair's breadth away from kissing her.

"Tell me not to kiss you," he ordered her in a strained voice. His warm breath pressed against her face as he whispered the words so close to her mouth.

She let her eyes flutter halfway closed as she stepped into him even more. She hadn't thought that there was any distance left between them. But she'd been wrong. And then she'd closed it. Her body molded against his and she was throbbing now as they stood so close together. Erik tilted his face a little more so that their lips were as close as they could get without actually touching. His grasp on her arm tightened as he tugged her into him even more.

Evangeline let him pull her completely flush against him. Her hand drifted from his chest and crept around his trim waist and under his arm, until her fingers were gripping his back. She held him against her just as he held her to him. Her face tilted a little more to the side and teased at the tiny bit of space that still divided them.

"Don't be such a coward," she whispered teasingly.

And then Erik's head dipped downward and closed that miniscule gap of space between them. His lips were soft but firm against her as he pressed a gentle, hesitant kiss against her mouth.

Evangeline made a sound against him, but held him to her firmly when he tried to pull away from her. She let her lips soften into the kiss as she sighed against him. And when Erik dropped her arm so that he could wrap his grip around her waist instead, Evangeline took full advantage of the opportunity. She pressed her fingers into the firm muscles of his broad back as her other arm wrapped around his neck and pulled his head down towards her even more. She wanted all of it, all of him. And she would not be denied anymore. They'd wasted so much time already.

She moaned into his mouth when his other hand threaded itself into her hair at the base of her neck once more. She loved it when he did that. Loved it when his fingers played with her hair or brushed a strand aside.

The sand shifted underneath their feet, and she laughed into the kiss as she simply clung to him even tighter in response as they swayed dangerously. Her lips curved against his until his kisses chased the humor from her mouth as he tried to devour her.

Erik took advantage of her parted lips as his tongue darted forward into her mouth and touched her own.

Never one to back down from a challenge Evangeline met him halfway. She'd heard of French kissing, even though she'd never tried it before. And who better to teach her than her French tutor? The thought made her grin as Erik kissed her. His tongue wrapped around hers as they battled for superiority. She met him equally as they explored one another. Neither one of them was able to gain any ground.

And then Erik's fingers tightened in her hair and gave a little tug and she gasped as that tiny bit of pain made the pleasure all that much sweeter. The dull throbbing in her body pulsed and the arm around her waist tightened and trapped her against him. He took advantage of her moment of stunned passivity, and then he was kissing her absolutely senseless and suddenly she didn't care about games or winning or being right anymore. If losing felt like this then she'd gladly concede. Just so long as he never stopped kissing her.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Erik watched Evangeline from the doorway as she picked flowers in the stone walled garden of the Baron's estate. Two weeks had come and gone since that night of understanding on the beach. And there had been many unproductive music lessons full of kisses and looks of longing and gentle caresses ever since.

And now today was Saturday. Evangeline had insisted that some traditions were important and should not be skipped for any reason. So there she was, in the garden, gathering flowers for the dining table for that evening's dinner.

He watched as she bent over to cut her choice of orange roses from the bushes that lined the Eastern side of the pebbled garden pathway. And since there was no one there to see him oggle her he did just that.

She straightened up and added her selection to her growing pile, then threw a knowing look at him over her shoulder and winked.

Erik laughed in reply and merely raised his glass of lemonade to his lips as he watched her shamelessly and reminisced.

The days had passed easily enough in that time. Erik and Evangeline would play the piano every day. Her formal lessons had been abandoned in favor of playing whatever came to either one of them. Erik had taken immense pleasure in showing her one or two of the duets that he'd written but had never performed with another person. She picked the songs up easily enough once she was no longer pretending to be a mediocre, struggling student.

His affection for her grew with each passing day as she surprised him endlessly with simple touches and the occasional exquisite kiss. Her hand would rest upon his shoulder as she leafed through the sheets of music in his folio while she stood by him at the piano. She'd smile at him coyly sometimes as they passed one another in the hall, regardless of the ever watchful eyes of the staff. And one afternoon they'd gone back down to the beach together and he'd watched her as she gathered up a variety of sea shells into her skirt, slipped her shoes off, and played in the surf. She'd kicked wet sand at him and laughed when he chased her and caught her to him in a kiss. The shells were left behind and entirely forgotten.

It never failed to surprise him when she stood up on her toes and pressed her petal soft mouth to his. He was left breathless and in awe of her each and every time she did it. And he was certain that she knew it. She'd smile up at him until her cheek dimpled and he knew that he was grinning down at her like a fool. He didn't care.

In the presence of the staff she was still her usual, icy, restrained self. But when they were alone she thawed against him as her skin sought his in some small manner that seemed insignificant to her but meant everything to him.

Sometimes after dinner, when Freddie and the Baron had disappeared to do whatever they did together Erik and Evangeline would settle into the study and they would read silently together. She had taken, lately, to propping her feet into his lap as she reclined against the armrest of the study's leather sofa. Erik enjoyed propping his book against her legs as he let his hand wander leisurely around the soft, silk covered skin of her ankle and calf. Every evening the pad of his thumb gained another inch higher up her leg. Evangeline never chastised him or pulled away.

A soft humming from the garden pulled his thoughts back to the present. Erik watched as the object of his affections puttered around in the garden, snipping blooms in some outwardly random pattern that seemed to only make sense to her as she sang underneath her breath while she gathered up her blossoms.

Erik wondered if this was what it felt like to be normal… and to be loved.

* * *

At dinner that night Erik was surprised, to put it mildly, when Evangeline laughed at something that was said and her hand slid over towards his on the table. As her fingers intertwined with his own, Erik eyed the Baron's reaction from the corners of his eyes. But the man appeared neither offended, nor oblivious to the show before him. Their eyes met across the table and the Baron merely winked at him before returning his attention to Evangeline's brother.

Erik was left to wonder what sort of man would allow himself to be cuckolded in his own home. He wondered what sort of man would look at Evangeline and not want her for his own.

Freddie added something or other to the conversation and Evangeline glanced between the two of them. She seemed amused at Erik's distraction, and he realized then that he'd completely missed whatever had been said. Her fingers threaded through his as she squeezed his hand comfortingly.

Apparently their affections need only be hidden from the staff, as neither Evangeline's brother or fiance seemed perturbed or shocked in the slightest. Erik sat back in his chair and tried to quell the sense of unease that settled into the pit of his stomach. It felt too good to be true.

* * *

After dinner Freddie and the Baron made their excuses and left the study with their drinks in hand. Evangeline said goodnight to both of them, and as they left and shut the door behind them she swiveled on the leather sofa and kicked her shoes off onto the floor. The heels clattered noisily to the hardwood floor and landed heavily with two _thuds_.

As she settled her skirts and propped her book into her lap she set her feet into his lap as she'd done every night these last two weeks. Erik adjusted his own book as his hand sought the familiar curve of her stockinged foot.

He started with her toes as he set the ball of his thumb on each toe and massaged. His thumb pressed in lazy circles at the pads of her feet next. When he lightly stroked the instep of her foot and she jerked away in response and he chuckled.

"You do that every single night," she complained petulantly from over the edge of her book.

But Erik knew that she was not nearly as cross at him as she sounded. He was learning her nuances.

"And yet you jerk away so dramatically, every single night… it amuses me," he teased her.

She pouted at him over the edge of her book until he dug the pad of his thumb back into the bottom of her foot and continued rubbing.

Evangeline moaned, soft and low, as he massaged her foot. The sound of it, breathy and low and utterly sincere, stirred something primal that lay deep within him.

Erik's gaze slid sideways to watch her face as they both pretended to read their books. But he'd read the same sentence at least three times now and he still didn't know what it said. He idly wondered if she'd moan just like that if his hand were massaging other places higher up.

His fingers wrapped around her ankle as he finished the massage of her left foot. She wiggled the toes of her right foot impatiently in a silent order for him to continue.

But Erik had other ideas. He was tired of inches. She'd grabbed his hand at dinner in front of her brother and the Baron, and now some unspoken boundary had been crossed. His hand slid up her calf and thigh and disappeared underneath her skirt until his fingers found the edge of her stocking. Other than the slight flinching of her leg as his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh she gave no other indication that she noticed his deviance from their expected nightly routine. He was amused that she flinched when he stroked her thigh as well. Was it just the surprise, or was she ticklish there as well? His fingers itched to find out. He meant to explore every inch of her tonight. With his fingers first… and then later with his tongue.

The soft skin of her thigh was smooth as he pulled the fine, knitted silk stocking free from its garter and rolled it gently down her leg. When he reached her foot he pulled it off and let it fall to the ground to join her cast off shoes. And then he repeated it and did the same with her other one.

He glanced at her to gauge her reaction as his hand stroked the sensitive skin of the back of her knee. Her eyes rose from the page of her book as she met his gaze and she peered up at him curiously. The slight upturn at the corner of her mouth gave him the confidence to continue.

Erik drew lazy circles at the back of her knee and the inside of her thigh. His hand brushed the lace trimmed edge of her drawers. Evangeline's only response was to shift slightly on the sofa. She bent one knee and spread her legs slightly further apart as Erik's hand slid up inside the lacy, cotton shorts and stroked even higher up her thigh.

He was about to set his book aside and give up all pretenses of reading when the study door opened suddenly.

Erik withdrew his hand back down to her foot and was glad that he was not on the receiving end of Evangeline's withering glare as Freddie burst into the room.

"Eva! Good… there you are… I need you desperately," the boy pleaded.

"Freddie, have you ever heard of knocking?" she fumed at her brother.

Freddie glanced between the two of them and made a show of looking at the cast off silk stockings and shoes on the floor. He made a face.

At least the boy had the wherewithal to look embarrassed at the obvious interruption.

Erik continued the massage of Evangeline's feet as he pretended to read his book and ignore whatever animosity was currently happening between the two twins. They could be quite testy sometimes. It was best to stay out of it. And since the foot massage was the most obvious pretense for why her stockings would be on the floor, Erik continued. While Evangeline might be comfortable grabbing his hand at dinner, he was certain that she'd not appreciate him sliding his hand up her skirts directly in front of her brother.

"Oh! Oh… I see… well normally I would not bother you while you two are… reading. But you really must come at once!" Freddie insisted rather dramatically.

"And why is that?" she probed in an irritated voice.

Erik was truly glad that for once he was not on the receiving end of Evangeline's ire. He knew exactly how it felt. But really, he felt no sympathy for the poor boy, either. Freddie had interrupted them rather rudely after all. And just when Erik had been making some real progress too. _Damn_.

"Georgiana is home," Freddie explained in a grim voice.

"Oh bloody hell," Evangeline cursed.

Erik looked at her in mild amusement as she snapped her book shut and threw it onto her lap.

"And it gets worse…" Freddie moaned.

"Why am I not surprised?" she muttered darkly. "Alright, Freddie, how is it worse?" she asked him with a huff and a sigh.

Freddie shifted forward and gathered the silk stockings up from the floor and tossed them at his sister. Evangeline caught them easily and scowled at him.

"Because she is hysterically crying, that's why!" Freddie groaned and flapped his hands uselessly in the air.

"And why is she crying, Freddie?" Evangeline asked with an edge to her voice.

"I don't know, Eva! That's why I came to fetch you! You need to go and talk to her. I can't understand a word that she's saying because she won't stop sobbing long enough to speak properly," Freddie whined.

Evangeline rolled her eyes and set her book aside.

"Out!" she ordered her brother sternly as she pointed to the door.

When Freddie looked like he might not comply she sent him a withering glare that had Freddie bolting from the room and closing the doors loudly behind him.

Evangeline sighed and pulled her feet out of Erik's lap and shoved a foot into each stocking. She pulled her skirts and petticoat up and rolled each stocking back up her legs, hooking them securely into place with her ribbon trimmed garters with practiced efficiency.

Erik watched the show of leg rather shamelessly and wanted to sigh in exasperation when she settled her skirts back into place, hiding them from his view. He'd been so close tonight, too.

"Who is Georgiana?" Erik asked her softly instead.

"Jonathan's much younger and very silly sister," she explained with a sigh as she fluffed her skirts and fussed with her hair and jewelry.

Erik leaned forward and collected her shoes, then slid them back into place on her feet.

"Thank you," Evangeline murmured as she rose from the sofa with his help.

"And why is it so terrible that she is here?" he mused aloud. He was rather curious at what could cause such a visceral reaction in the both of them: Freddie's anxiety and Evangeline's ire.

Evangeline smirked at him and clucked her tongue against her teeth. "Oh, lord… you only say that because you've never met her. If she's half as bad as I've heard then this will be quite the show."


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

If there was one thing Freddie hated more than anything else it was a hysterically crying woman. Once Eva had dragged herself away from that shameless Frenchman the young girl had been convinced to move from where she'd previously collapsed on the floor to a more comfortable sofa where she was now hysterically crying onto the armrest. It was only a small improvement, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Georgiana, darling, whatever has caused you so much distress?" Eva asked in a calm voice as she rubbed soothing circles against the girl's shaking back.

Georgiana sobbed into the sofa's velvet arm and made a high, piercing noise amongst the sob.

Freddie grimaced and jammed fingers into his ears until she stopped. He looked over at Jonathan and Erik and saw that their opinions of the situation were similar to his own. They all glanced at one another, then in unison they looked to Eva. She was their only hope to stop all of this nonsense.

Eva looked at him and shrugged.

Freddie made shooing motions with his hands as he silently begged her to continue.

Eva pursed her lips into a thin line and looked at the girl with no small amount of cold, calculation. Uh oh. Freddie knew that look. Either Eva was about to fix everything, or she was going to make it all a thousand times worse.

Eva grabbed the girl by the shoulders and pulled her away from the arm of the sofa.

Georgiana raised damp, limpid eyes up at the woman who was manhandling her. Eva simply gave the girl a little shake until the girl's lower lip stopped quivering from the surprise.

"Georgiana, dearest, I can not help you if you will not tell me what has happened. Please, will you tell me how I can help you?" Eva prodded gently.

For a minute there Georgiana looked like she might collapse back into hysterics, but then she managed to pull herself together enough to speak. The men of the room took a collective sigh of relief.

"It has to do with Hunter Blackett," Georgiana moaned pathetically.

Both Freddie and Jonathan stiffened at once.

"That terrible rake?" Eva questioned in an alarmed voice.

Georgiana's face scrunched back into ruin and Freddie jammed his fingers back into his ears in preparation for the girl's shrill caterwauling. No good ever came about from Hunter's shenanigans. That man had been appropriately named. He preyed on young, innocent debutantes and left them sobbing wrecks with tattered reputations when he was done. Rinse, and repeat, it was the same sad story every year, just with a different girl. Apparently, this year, it was with Georgiana. Freddie wanted to groan at whatever mess the girl had gotten herself into. It wouldn't be good, that was for certain.

When it looked like the danger of hysterics had passed Freddie pulled his fingers from his ears and shoved his hands into his pockets. He eyed Jonathan's stiff, devastated face beside him.

Eva, God bless her, merely trudged on with it and continued. "Oh, my poor sweet child! You must tell me what happened at once," Eva insisted as she continued to rub little circles on the girl's shaking shoulders.

"I was at the… the Wilton party," Georgiana said between sniffles.

Eva dug a handkerchief from somewhere within her dress and handed it to the crying girl, who wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"And something happened at the Wilton party?" Eva asked.

Georgiana nodded sheepishly and had the decency to look ashamed of herself as she avoided her older brother's burning gaze and Freddie's look of embarrassment.

"I only slipped away for a moment. It was only one kiss, I swear it!" Georgiana defended herself to the room's occupants as if they'd just accused her of some foul misdeed.

"Where were you?" Eva prompted the girl to continue when it looked like Georgiana had finished what she had to say for herself.

Georgiana stared at Eva with a look of severe confusion. "At the Wilton party," she repeated densely.

Eva sighed and glanced at Freddie over the girl's head. Freddie shrugged his shoulders as best as he could with his hands shoved into his pockets and glanced about the room. Erik seemed amused from where he stood leaning against the fireplace mantle, one arm slung carelessly atop the marble slab.

"Oh, sweet child," Eva condescended. "I meant where were you in the party. Outside in the gardens? In a hallway nook?" she prodded gently.

Georgiana, oblivious to his sister's tone of voice, sniffled and wiped her nose again. "In the library," the girl admitted finally.

Freddie and Eva glanced at one another and exchanged a meaningful look. This was worse than he'd assumed. He glanced over at Jonathan, who now looked ashen. He couldn't blame the man. This was way worse than any of them had dreaded.

"And I suppose that someone found you?" Eva asked as gently as she could.

Georgiana whimpered and nodded and cast her eyes down to the floor.

"Who was it?" Eva asked.

"Joseph Bolton and Edward Kelly," the girl admitted.

"And where was your chaperone during all of this?" Eva asked.

"Refilling her punch glass. I slipped away from her at nine just like…" the girl answered before she broke down into another sob.

"Just like he told you to?" Eva finished for the girl.

Georgiana nodded mutely in reply.

"And you left, devastated and in tears, and traveled back home immediately. I see that you're still in your ball gown, so that means that you didn't even stop to gather your things or pack, and you've apparently left your chaperone behind in London."

"Oh… poor Aunt Mildred," Georgiana moaned as she stared at some distant spot in the room, unseeing.

"Alright, let me guess how things went down. Hunter was a perfect gentleman all season. Not at all the dangerous rake that you'd heard whispers about. He saw you standing against the wall or at the punch bowl at some event or party or musicale, and he made a funny joke. You laughed, and he told you that you were utterly charming and radiant and beautiful… or something to that effect. He told you that you had a lovely smile, and he wished to always make you laugh in such a way so that he could see it at least once more. And then he left you wanting more, and ignored you for the rest of the evening. You bumped into one another at other events of the season, and he continued to charm and compliment you, but only when you two were relatively alone and unwatched. He seemed so misunderstood. How could they all be so wrong about him? And then the gifts started to arrive. In secret, of course. Flowers without a card, a box of sweets without a note. But you knew who they were from. You saw him at the next event and he asked you how you enjoyed them. You may have even rebuked his advances. After all, his reputation is legendary. But then you started to wonder if it was mostly lies. If the girls who cried out about him were merely spurned, jealous ex-lovers. And then he told you that he loved you and he wanted to marry you, if only his terribly mean father would let him! I wonder if he wrote you poetry? No? Probably for the best, it would have been stolen work anyways," Eva summarized with an unsympathetic shrug.

Georgiana's face was pale and stricken as she stared at Eva with her mouth wide open in shock. "You don't… you don't know him like I do!" she protested weakly.

Eva looked at the girl with an expression of exasperated pity.

"Don't look at me like that! Like you pity me! Like I am terribly naive and stupid!" Georgiana protested angrily.

"I understand that you are upset, Georgiana. He used you ruthlessly and cast you aside when he was done with you. Believe me, I understand exactly what you are going through right now," Eva confided gently.

Georgiana, apparently not done with being angry, took that moment to look Eva up and down and sneer. "Oh yes, I have heard the stories. You have quite the scandalous reputation. But It is different for me. He loves me, and he wants to marry me!"

Eva made a show of looking about the room before turning her attention back to the red faced, puffy Georgiana.

"Where is he then, I wonder? His future bride is sitting here, in her family's house, in distress. Did he run after you when you ran from the ball? Did he flag your carriage down and stop you from leaving him? Did he defend you to his friends, and swear to them that you are practically engaged? I do not see a ring on you finger," Eva quipped.

Georgiana's face drained of color and tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared between Eva and Jonathan in silent shock.

"It is a tale as old as time, Georgiana. That man never loved you, and your reputation is ruined now. You were a game to him, and he has had his fun, and how he has no use for you. All we can do from here on out is damage control," Eva told her truthfully.

Georgiana moaned as tears rolled down her face. "But it was just a kiss! One kiss…" she protested.

"Sometimes that's all it takes," Eva whispered into the quiet room.

Freddie watched as Jonathan sank into an armchair, pale and drained looking, and stared off unseeing into the distance.

"And that doesn't matter now, Georgiana. He will say otherwise, in private, to his friends, and at his clubs. People will talk and news will spread. And his two friends who found you will corroborate whatever lies he tells them as if they saw it with their own two eyes. You left immediately afterwards, abandoned your chaperone, and fled London in the dead of night. No one will believe you if you say otherwise… even if it is true," Eva elaborated.

Georgiana moaned and started weeping again.

Eva rubbed the girl's shoulders sympathetically, then rang for a maid and ordered the poor girl taken upstairs, bathed, and tucked into bed with a healthy serving of brandy.

When the maid coaxed the sobbing sister upstairs Eva waited until the door clicked closed and whirled around to face them all with her hands planted firmly on her hips and lips narrowed into a thin line of disgust.

"Ol' black heart's at it again, I see," Freddie added wearily.

"That Hunter Blackett is a gutless, spineless guttersnipe and if I ever have the chance to punch him in the face, I swear that I will do it," she declared.

Freddie snorted, eager for a distraction from the pitiful scene that had just ended.

"I'm surprised that you don't want to stab him through with your rapier," Freddie mocked, but there was more truth to it than humor.

"Don't tempt me," she muttered under her breath.

"I'll have to challenge him," Jonathan muttered distractedly from his arm chair.

Freddie was by his lover's side in an instant as he placed a steadying hand upon Jonathan's shoulder in a show of unwavering support.

"I will be your second," Freddie offered. What else could he do?

"Fools! The both of you!" Eva yelled at them as she crossed the parlor and poured herself her own healthy dose of brandy.

"God save me from the pridefulness of _men_," she muttered softly under her breath as she splashed the red brown liquid haphazardly into her own glass and took a healthy swallow.

And then she rounded on them and pointed at them each in turn.

"Freddie, you will absolutely not encourage this sort of talk. It is not helpful in the slightest. And Jonathan, you will not be doing anything of the sort. I do not want to hear anymore talk of justice, or revenge, or dueling. It is illegal, it is counterproductive, and you will do your sister no good if you end up maimed, murdered, or jailed. Am I clear?"

Freddie looked between his sister and his lover as Jonathan rose from the chair to face her.

Jonathan's face was stern and unyielding, and Freddie knew that look all too well. His lover was not a man to be ordered about or talked down to. Freddie gulped and pursed his lips into a thin line as he stared back and forth between the two of them warily.

Eva stood her ground with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Her chin was set into a stubborn line that showed that she would not be swayed on these matters and she expected her orders to be followed explicitly.

Jonathan was the first to look away. "I will defer to your… experience in these matters, since you were in Georgiana's shoes once upon a time," Jonathan said quite rudely.

Freddie saw Eva's eyes narrow at the thinly veiled barb.

Eva, for her all of her merit, merely smirked and took another sip of her brandy. "I've been called much worse… you'll need to do better than that," she countered icily.

Freddie paled as he glanced, his loyalties torn, between the two people he loved most in the world. Why did they _both_ have to be so bloody stubborn all the time?

Eva, apparently, decided to relent. "Jonathan," Eva added in softer tones. "If you want to help Georgiana then you will not call him out. It will bring your sister nothing but more grief. It will lead credence to his lies, damage her reputation further, and deprive her of her protective brother in one way or another. I know that you mean well, but I am serious. You must trust me in this. Freddie and I will help you, but you must not challenge Hunter. It will bring you nothing but ruin and rue."

Jonathan paled again and nodded absently as Freddie tucked himself into his lover's side and led him towards the door.

"I am sorry... for my unkind words," Jonathan apologized to Eva with downcast eyes. "It was ungentlemanly."

Eva nodded in reply. "Forgiven, and forgotten. These are… extenuating circumstances. But see that it does not happen again. You care very little for my virtue or the lack thereof. Do us both a favor and do not pretend otherwise."

Jonathan nodded quietly in return.

"Come, let's put you to bed as well," Freddie murmured softly to Jonathan.

Freddie glanced over his shoulder to see Eva as she watched them leave. Her face was blank and impassive, even to him, and he didn't like it one bit. When had a distance started to grow between them? And how had he not seen it until just now?

Jonathan clutched his hand and Freddie's attention was diverted back once more to the man at his side.


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Author's Note: **As always unedited chapters can be found on A O X3 under the same title

Evangeline waited until the door was closed before she turned towards Erik. He was leaning casually against the fireplace mantel with one arm slung seemingly without a care up onto the marble slab and his fingers tapping idly on the stone while with his other hand was buried deep in his jacket pocket. He was the very picture of ennui.

Erik arched one eyebrow at her as she blatantly stared at him.

"I would appreciate your thoughts on the matter," she requested as she made no move to join him from where she sat across the room on the tear splattered velvet sofa. Her ill used handkerchief lay forgotten on the ground by her shoe.

Erik's fingers tapped on the marble fireplace as they studied one another, and then the corner of his mouth tipped up on one side.

"You fence?" he asked, finally, in a curious sounding voice.

Evangeline stared at him for a moment and blinked, then laughed.

"Was that the only thing that you took away from all of this?" she asked him once she'd calmed herself enough to speak. _Didn't you hear that I'm practically a whore as far as society is concerned?_

Erik shrugged rather dramatically as if he couldn't have been bothered by the evening's unpleasant turn. "It was the only part that really interested me," he said with a shrug. _I don't care if you are in ill repute and I am not your first _his eyes seemed to say.

Evangeline looked at him with playfully narrowed eyes as she grinned at him slyly from across the room. His silent dismissal of Georgiana's carelessly hateful words and Jonathan's also careless confirmation bolstered her courage more than any words of reassurance could have. She buried her smile in the rim of her glass as she took another sip of brandy. Liquid courage. It burned her throat on the way down, and it was overly sweet and cloying and not her usual preference at all. But it spread a warmth throughout her middle which emboldened her and took the edge off of her carefully hidden anxieties.

"I'd like to see you fence someday," he added as he left the fireplace to pour his own glass of something amber and intoxifying. Erik took a sip of his own drink and turned back towards her.

"That could be arranged," Evangeline conceded with a twinkle in her eye and a smirk on her lips. "But be careful what you wish for. I'm rather good," she boasted.

Erik grinned at her wickedly and took a long sip of his drink as he crossed the room in five long strides and sat beside her on the sofa. It was the graceful, sure walk of a predator closing in on his prey. And it sent a thrill through her and a tingle up her spine..

"I gather that you're rather good at a lot of things. I'd love to see all of them," he murmured as he reached towards her and grabbed her leg through her skirts.

He hoisted her leg up onto the seat and pulled her to him slightly until one of her legs was draped across his lap. The movement upset her balance and Evangeline gripped the back of the sofa to keep from falling backwards all the way. The brandy in her glass sloshed dangerously close to spilling.

"Careful!" she chided him with a laugh. "Or the smell of brandy will never come out of the velvet." Her heart hammered pleasantly in her chest when he grinned at her rakishly like that.

"You'd best drink it down, then. To preserve the furniture of course. Because I make no promises to be careful."

Evangeline tipped her head to the side and studied him as she took a dutiful sip in silent reply. When his hand ghosted along the top of her foot and pulled her shoe free she was not surprised at all. It clattered carelessly to the ground. And then his long, skillful fingers were wrapping around her ankle and sliding slowly up her calf. He paused to caress the back of her knee, and she did squirm a little at that, and then his hand was searching for the ribbon garter that held her silk hose in place.

"I didn't know that you cared so much about preserving the condition of Jonathan's furniture," Evangeline teased as she took another sip of her drink.

She was beginning to enjoy the way it slid down her throat and left a trail of warmth in its wake. Perhaps there was more to liquor than she'd ever given it credit before. The aftereffects were not unpleasant once one got used to the initial burn and bite.

"I've always had a deep appreciation for beautiful things," he said lightly. "Now… where were we, before?"

Erik's hand freed the stocking of one leg and then his hands were slipping underneath the silk as he nimbly rolled it down her leg until he'd pulled it free. His fingers lingered and grazed the soft skin of her inner thigh as he worked it off.

Evangeline moved her skirts and used the edge of the sofa's carved trim work to kick her other heel off. Both legs then settled across his lap as she finished her drink and reclined against the back of the sofa lazily.

He was as quick with her other stocking as he had been with the first. Apparently practice really did make perfection. He worked the stocking free of the garter as easily now as if he'd done so every day for his entire life. Finely knitted, nearly transparent silk hosiery fluttered to the floor to join the growing pile of feminine articles. She closed her eyes and sighed as the pad of his thumb traced lazy circles along the sensitive inside of her thigh.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh and the slight sting on her thigh surprised her and forced her eyes to fly open. She gaped at him in shock as his hand gripped her knee a little more forcefully than before.

"What was that for?" she asked incredulously.

"Open," he commanded brusquely in a deep voice that made her want to tremble and obey. And the hand that was wrapped around her knee made his intentions very clear as he squeezed her knee cap lightly.

Evangeline tried to swallow past the lump that was now lodged in her throat as her pulse raced and sent a delicious throbbing down between her legs. He could simply place her leg where he wanted it, as he'd done before they'd been interrupted in the study. She recalled the way that he'd positioned her as he'd wanted her in order to let his hand creep further up than it ever had before. But apparently their game was different now. Instead of taking what he wanted instead he'd demanded that she give it to him. His hand traced teasing, tickling circles on the back of her knee as she stared at him while she considered it.

Ever so slowly Evangeline bent her leg. His fingers drifted to the outside of her calf in the process as she took away the hollow of flesh where he'd found purchase. And then she let her leg fall to the side a little. Even if she was swathed in layers of skirts and petticoats she felt more exposed to him now than she ever had before

Erik's hand disappeared underneath the edge of her lace trimmed drawers. His fingers slid higher up the inside of her thigh. The pad of his thumb traced lazy circles as he gained ground. She shifted a little further on the sofa and let her leg fall to the side a bit more. It granted him more access, but still it seemed that it wasn't enough. His creeping hand was stopped too short by the constraints of fabric.

"There's… there's a slit," she offered breathily when she realized that the cut of her drawers would not permit him to find her completely unless she helped him.

He chuckled, a deep and gravelly sound that sent shivers down her spine, and a blush rose to her face at the sound of it as his hand withdrew.

"How convenient," he whispered.

And then his fingers were stroking the clothed juncture of her thighs until one digit found the gap in the fabric and slid inside to cup her sex. A throbbing ache tore through her core as he slid one longer through the drawers' slit to tease the damp curls between her legs.

"Hmm…" she moaned in agreement as he found and teased her. Yes, it was incredibly convenient. Although perhaps this was not the original inventors design (it was nearly impossible to pull down one's drawers from underneath layers and layers of corsets and petticoats and skirt in order to relieve oneself in the water closet) but she could appreciate its alternate uses very much right now.

Erik slid one finger between her folds and suddenly Evangeline was incredibly aware of how aroused and wet she was. Her eyes slid half closed as she savored the way he teased her. Another digit joined the exploration, and then his fingers were spreading her wide as his thumb slipped in and traced a lazy swirl of patterns on a very delicious spot. Her toes curled as she arched her head onto the back of the sofa. Hairpins were digging into her head as a result of throwing it back in wild abandon, but she couldn't have cared less as one of his fingers dipped just faintly inside of her while his thumb continued to rub lazy circles on that one delicious spot of nerves. A sudden, intense ache to be filled consumed her as she realized that her body wanted to be stretched by much more than just one slim finger.

"Are you always so sopping wet, my dear?" he asked her as he slid a second digit inside of her. The angle of his hand changed, and now he was grinding his palm against that bundle of nerves. Her muscles clenched around his fingers in response.

"No," she moaned between pants.

"So this is all for me?" he clarified.

Evangeline nodded and moaned again, not sure that she could trust herself to speak in that moment as his fingers curled inside of her and found another set of nerves to toy with.

She moaned even more in reply and she felt her hips twitch slightly in some automatic response. Evangeline had never felt so undone before. There was no room for thought or calculation. There was only pleasure, and this blinding, desperate need that was growing worse instead of better with every twitch of his fingers or grind of his palm against her. His fingers were far better at this than her own had ever been. He reached places inside of her that she'd even never known existed.

"I'm still waiting," he prodded gently as he toyed with her.

Evangeline merely moaned again in response as she tried to zero in and latch onto the feelings that would eventually lead to her release. Her hips twitched against his probing thumb as he filled her with his fingers. She needed more, and she needed it now. Her impatience grew as he continued to play with her lazily.

Erik slid his other hand underneath her skirts and pinched her thigh.

She yelped, surprised by the addition of pain, and stared at him in shock. His fingers never stopped their assault on her as his palm ground against her.

"I asked you a question," he reiterated in a stormy voice. And then his fingers were digging into the flesh of her thigh and his hand stilled so abruptly that she wanted to cry.

Evangeline wanted to scream out in frustration as the building pressure within her stuttered and faded. Her eyes must have been glaring daggers at him as his hand withdrew to tease the damp curls between her leg. Her body ached from the loss of his fingers.

Erik quirked a brow at her in silent inquiry as his fingers teased her. His intentions were clear. If she wanted him to continue then she'd have to acquiesce control to him. It was not something that came easily to her. Perhaps that was why he was asking it of her. She could get angry and tell him to go away if she decided not to play this little game of his. But her body ached for him. It wanted to be teased senseless. She wanted him.

Evangeline swallowed her pride and nodded silently.

Her heart hammered in her chest as he slid one finger down and found the bundle that made her toes curl. But it was far from enough. The ache within her would not be quieted.

"It's all for you," she whispered obediently.

One finger dipped down and teased her. He'd entered her no further than a single knuckle. It was more than she had a moment ago, and it still wasn't enough. His brow quirked higher in response. What more did he want from her?

"Erik," she pleaded desperately.

The finger dipped further inside, but was still. His palm pressed lightly against her juncture, but didn't move.

"Please," she begged him. Her hips twitched of their own accord and his stern glare forced her to be still.

"I want to hear you say it," he told her.

Another blush stole across her cheeks as she considered the embarrassment of saying such wanton things out loud.

"I… I am wet for you. I want you… I need you…" she stammered. "Please, Erik" she moaned, a little desperate, now.

Her answer must have pleased him because he ground his hand against her more intensely in return. A second digit joined the first. Erik worked her until her breathing grew ragged and she was sure that she'd die if she didn't find the release that her body was searching for. A pressure was starting to build inside of her as his palm made lazy, dragging circles against her while his fingers moved. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let her head drop back, exposing the long expanse of her throat. She no longer cared about anything but the hand that was between her legs. There was no room for anything in her mind now except for him, and his fingers inside of her, and the pleasure that was building up inside of her. A blush roared to life across her face and neck as her toes curled while she balanced on the precipice of release as he worked her and dragged her body to new heights. Her thighs quivered from the strain as the moment stretched on and on forever.

"Cum for me," he ordered her in a deep, gravelly voice.

And Evangeline did just that. His crude words had been the catalyst that she needed.

She bit her lip to stop the loud moan that would have escaped her as her muscles clenched and spasmed. Her ecstasy built and exploded out from her as his palm pressed against her until her breathing grew less ragged and the tension in her thighs relaxed.

He took the empty brandy glass from her limp hand and she realized suddenly that she'd been on the verge of dropping and shattering it as her orgasm coursed through her and left her exhausted and pleased. She hadn't even realized that she was still holding it.

"Good girl," he added smugly.

Evangeline merely smirked in response. She should scold him for making the assumption that he could order her about or call her pet names like that, but she simply didn't have the energy in the moment. Maybe she'd speak to him about it later. She sighed as his fingers withdrew from her and she cracked her eyes open in time to see him slipping those very same fingers into his mouth. Her breathing hitched as she watched him lick the evidence of her arousal and pleasure from his hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked in equal parts of confusion and shock.

"Tasting you, of course," he answered simply as if it was the most obvious thing ever. Perhaps it was. It was rather self explanatory that if he dipped his fingers into her, then licked his fingers, that he might know what she tasted like. But she was confused on why he would do such a thing.

She arched a brow at him and sat up on the sofa. Her skirts were horribly wrinkled. She supposed that there was little she could do about it now. Evangeline thought that she would need to remember to check her hair before she left the study. The pins felt a little loose.

"And?" she asked, curious what his verdict would be.

It felt like an odd thing to be concerned about. Erik merely grinned at her in response and stood from the sofa, which made her instantly wary. She was beginning to learn the nuances of his grins and this one promised nothing good for her. It was the same look that he'd had when he'd tried to punish her misbehavior with a particularly trying music composition.

"I'm not certain," he said flippantly as he stood before her.

Evangeline paused to settle her skirts about her legs as she sat up properly on the sofa. Was there something wrong with her? Was she abnormal, then? She had no basis for comparison, and thus could not be certain either way. She frowned at him as she tried to puzzle it out in her head.

He sank to his knees before her and threw her skirts up to her waist. His hands were gripping her knees and forcing them apart as she squeaked in surprise. He moved faster than she thought was humanly possible. Erik had his hands wrapped around her hips and buttocks before she could think to protest, and then he was pulling her forward onto the edge of the sofa and shoving her backwards all at the same time.

"Perhaps a second taste is in order," he declared from somewhere underneath the layers of her skirt. And then his fingers found the slit in her drawers again and his face was pressing into the juncture of her thighs this time.

The leather of his mask was cool on her thigh as his mouth settled on her swollen, tender, twitching sex. If her folds had been dripping before, then they were positively drenched now. Her earlier orgasm had created quite a lot of mess. And apparently Erik intended to clean it up with his tongue.

The first time that his soft, wet tongue found her she struggled to suppress the sound of surprise that was threatening to escape. The second lick made her toes curl again in response. When his tongue dipped inside of her she was not able to suppress her moan.

Erik's tongue withdrew from her and then his mouth was sucking the rest of her. The combination of pressure and the newness of the sensation began that familiar clench inside of her again. She'd just come down from her release a moment ago, there was no way that she could manage another one so soon.

"Erik," she moaned as he flicked and licked and suckled her. "I can't manage it," she protested weakly. Her body had other ideas, however. It was trying.

His response was to add two fingers inside of her as his tongue lapped at the bundle of nerves between her folds. She clenched around him as the familiar feeling of pressure swelled within her. The desire to ride his fingers as his tongue teased and taunted her became overwhelming, but the strong arm that was slung across her stomach held her in place and prevented her from doing just that. Even with his mouth on her and his fingers in her he was still finding some way to order her about. She'd roll her eyes at him if only he wasn't so bloody brilliant at it.

Erik swirled his tongue in lazy patterns around her while his fingers assaulted her deliciously.

There was a quick knock on the door and then the parlor door swung open. Evangeline had just enough sense left in her fuzzy, brandy laced brain to throw her skirts down towards the ground. It wouldn't block him entirely from view if whoever had just come into the parlor stepped around the back of the large velvet sofa to face her directly, but it was all that she could think to do in the moment.

Evangeline turned her head to look over her shoulder and saw that a maid (which one was this one, now? Sarah, Ruth… it was something biblical anyways) stood hesitantly in the doorway.

"Yes?" Evangeline said in as even a voice as she could muster with Erik's face between her legs and his body hidden somewhat underneath her many layers of skirts and petticoats.

"Beggin' your pardon, miss, but the young miss has requested your presence upstairs," the maid whispered nervously.

Erik's tongue lashed her from top to bottom as his fingers curled into her and her hips twitched dangerously in response. Her pleasure tightened and doubled as the poor frightened maid stared at her nervously from the threshold. And suddenly her release was a lot closer than it had been just a moment ago. Surely not. Surely he didn't intend to continue _this_ right _now_. And surely she wasn't enjoying this… this depravity of a display.

A third finger was added inside of her as his mouth sucked at her and his fingers played with that spot she liked so much inside.

Was she panting on the sofa while she stared at the poor maid? How much time had passed in her distraction?

"I see," Evangeline managed. And she was proud that she was able to keep her voice from cracking, or stop the moan that wanted to slip from her lips as his tongue swirled around her clit again.

She cleared her throat to tell Erik to stop, because she was too afraid to draw attention to the lump under her skirts by moving. Even if she wanted nothing more than to hit him right now for putting her in this compromising position.

His fingers curled inside of her as he explored her and attacked her with renewed vigor.

Evangeline struggled to keep a blank, impassive mask over her face. It took all of her self control to not just throw her head back and ride his face into orgasm while the poor, befuddled maid watched their unabashed depravity in horror.

The idea that the maid could infer what was happening had simply made her even more aroused. Suddenly the idea of being caught was thrilling. Erik had been right. She must enjoy a bit of danger. There was no other explanation for it. This maid might hear his tongue as it licked her, or the smacking sound his fingers made. The girl might notice the smell of arousal in the air, or see the shape of the man who was not quite hidden beneath the skirts. Evangeline might lose control and moan before she could stop herself. Her cunt throbbed at these naughty thoughts as Erik licked and teased her with his fingers in front of the poor, unsuspecting maid. And Evangeline desperately wanted him to continue. Her pleasure intensified as her orgasm began to build again inside of her.

She blinked and tried to clear these thoughts from her mind as the maid eyed her warily and confused from the doorway.

"Tell her that I shall join her shortly, then," Evangeline acquiesced when she was certain that she could keep her voice from trembling. "And shut the door on your way out. I can see myself upstairs," she ordered a little more sternly than was perhaps necessary. But Erik's fingers and tongue were relentless.

The maid nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, and the door shut behind her. Suddenly Evangeline and Erik were alone once more.

Evangeline tried to hide her disappointment as she pulled her skirts back up to glare down at the top of Erik's busy head.

Apparently he took this as a sign of encouragement as the pace of his tongue and fingers only increased even more. And now she couldn't stop her moan this time as he attacked her with even more passion and speed. He seemed desperate to wring another orgasm from her, and her body seemed equally as desperate to let go and give it to him.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, intent to pull him away from her tender, throbbing flesh to chide him… or… something else entirely. She wanted more than fingers and tongues. Her body was desperate for more. She wanted _him_.

Before she could discover what that something was the feelings within her changed. Her pleasure was swelling and beginning to crest as his crooked fingers massaged and pumped her from the inside and his tongue lapped at her.

Evangeline fisted her fingers in his hair and pressed him deeper into the juncture between her legs as her thighs quivered from the strain of her impending orgasm. She spread her legs wider as she forced his face deeper against her and held him in place. He'd not bring her to the precipice and leave her hanging again. She deserved this mind-blowing release after admirably managing the horrid situation that he'd just put her through in front of that maid.

She groaned as he worked her tirelessly. And then his fingers pumped three more times and his tongue flicked her a little more harshly than before and her pleasure came crashing down around her for a second time that evening as her walls clenched around him.

She moaned, louder than would be prudent given that they'd just been nearly caught as he lapped at her with his tongue and cleaned the slickness of her second orgasm from her.

Her breathing was ragged as she looked down at the man who was kneeling between her legs. The smirk on his face was irksome as he sat back on his heels to look up at her. He seemed entirely too pleased with himself for someone who was kneeling on the carpet with her juices on his face. She blinked down at him owlishly, surprised that she found the sight of him like that so pleasing, as he stared up at her mutely in return with a twinkle in his eye.

"Well... what have you to say for yourself?" she finally managed to ask as she quirked a brow at him. As happy as she was to have been pleased so thoroughly- and twice in one evening, no less- she was not thrilled that he seemed to assume that it gave him the upper hand in this relationship; that he could order her about and get away with it shamelessly.

Erik nipped her inner thigh through the slit in her drawers, and she narrowed her eyes at him a little in return. But it only made him grin wider.

"I know three things now" he declared in a challenging voice.

She licked her dry lips and settled her skirts back down as he leaned back and gave her room to recover.

"One- you taste sweet and delicious," he decided.

Evangeline blushed at his crude language before she could stop herself.

"Two- you enjoy the foul language and manhandling, and I am more than happy to oblige you," he added.

"And three?" she asked imperiously. She was a little put out that his assessment of her was so spot on. It was disconcerting, to say the least. She was not used to someone else having the upper hand over her, or the more cunning mind.

"You enjoyed being nearly caught even more than I did," he replied.

Evangeline scowled at him, mad at being so thoroughly summarized, but there was no real anger in it. Her eyes slid down his body to see the tenting of his pants as he kneeled before her. Evidently he really had enjoyed it as much as she had. A thrill ran through her that perhaps this union would be even more pleasurable than she'd hoped for if he had a reaction like that to what they'd just done.

"I will deal with you later," she threatened, but there was a smile in her voice.

Erik smirked and patted her bare thigh condescendingly.

"Oh I am counting on it," he quipped.

* * *

Evangeline paused at the nearest washroom to take a dampened towel to her thighs to clean herself off. Erik's tongue had done an admirable job, but even just the short trip from the parlor to the washroom had worked a little more mess free. She was swollen and a little sore and she sucked air in through her teeth as she ran the cool, damp cloth through her tender folds. It wouldn't do to go to Georgiana's room reeking of what she'd just done. The foolish girl might be a naive virgin, but there was no reason to tempt fate.

Once Evangeline was out of sight from Erik she felt shame and embarrassment wash over her that she'd been so aroused by the arrival of the maid. What was wrong with her? Why was she like this? Surely people did not enjoy that sort of thing… did they?

But Erik had been right. She'd liked his manhandling and pinches and slaps. They hadn't been painful enough to really hurt. But they had startled her. And he'd used her distraction to wrest control from her for just long enough to leave her mind blank and her body eager to obey him. And she'd never been eager to obey anyone before. The feeling was as unsettling in its newness as much as it was thrilling. She closed her eyes and cursed herself. She really was a little fool who enjoyed playing with dangerous things.

Even now her body still ached for more even though she'd just orgasmed twice tonight under his skillful hands and mouth. Instead, she was left with a vague feeling of emptiness, and she found it confusing.

Evangeline bit her lip to stifle the moan that wanted to tear through her at the thought of all that they had done. She was not a stranger to touching herself. At night sometimes she'd slip a hand down her belly to tease herself until the world exploded behind her eyelids. She'd never understood how it could be a terrible thing, really, as others claimed it was. God would not have made it feel so good if it was a shameful thing to do like her mother and the priest had warned her. But she'd never felt these needs like this before. Nobody had ever made her feel this way.

Even tender, throbbing, and well-pleased her body simply wanted more. That ache within her was still left unsatisfied. She wondered what it would take to sate this new desire, and her mind flashed to the memory of his obvious arousal. It had tented his pants quite dramatically and left very little to her imagination. More moisture gathered in the curls between her legs as her body throbbed again at the idea of Erik settling that bulge between her thighs and driving it home to where she ached for him the most. Would he be gentle, or passionate? Would he simply bend her over the sofa to take her whenever he pleased, or would he coax her to his bed and slide into her as softly as a sigh?

Evangeline took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to ten as she shoved all of the desire, and pleasure, and shame deep down. She didn't have time for this right now. Georgiana had called for her, and the chit would become suspicious if she didn't answer soon.

That girl was proving to be even more of a nuisance than Evangeline had expected when Freddie interrupted them in the study to share the news of her untimely arrival. Evangeline certainly had no desire to live with the little wallflower once she and Jonathan were married.

Evangeline pouted. It would be just her luck that the sister would decide that they should be friends and constant companions. But Evangeline couldn't risk being mean to the girl. That would surely displease Jonathan, who appeared to dote on her. He had been ready to challenge Hunter bloody Blackett to a duel over the girl's honor. Not that Evangeline would care so much if Jonathan did such a thing, so long as he won. Blackheart, as they all called him, would deserve worse than a quick death at the end of some brother's or father's pistol. But she had no idea how good of a shot Jonathan was… and she had no desire to see Freddie risk his life as the man's second, or mourn for his lover in the event of Jonathan's death. Even if Jonathan won, he'd more likely than not be jailed. Dueling was illegal and for good reason. Jonathan's imprisonment would wound Freddie just as deeply as the man's death. And the last thing that she needed in her life right now was more scandal.

She discounted that option entirely. There were too many variables that could not be controlled to her liking. And she refused to risk Freddie's happiness with so little chance at success.

That left two other avenues for perusal. Get Georgiana out of the house for good, or live with the girl and suck it up. The former would be challenging with the stupid girl's apparent propensity for making terrible decisions. The second option was simply too unbearable to even really consider.

Evangeline's access to Erik would be… restricted if they had to constantly be on guard. Maids and servants were one thing. They gossiped amongst each other, but had little opportunity to spread their stories outside of the household. Maids could be ordered out of rooms and intimidated into silence. Beloved sisters were another matter entirely.

Evangeline reasoned that she would need to find a way to get the girl out from under foot before she ruined everything.

The inkling of a plan formed in the back of her mind as she pulled the damp cloth from between her legs and buried it down into the bottom of a wicker basket full of linens.

* * *

Evangeline found Georgiana sitting in her nightclothes on the window bench in the girl's room. When she'd been shown which door to knock on by a passing maid Evangeline had slipped inside at the girl's soft call to come in.

"How are you feeling?" Evangeline asked with all of the compassion and care that she could muster up as she approached the girl cautiously. She was ready and prepared for a second round of hysterics. But as Evangeline assessed the girl, she realized that perhaps this talk would be a little different.

Georgiana smiled wanly in reply and sniffled. "A little better, thank you. After I calmed down I realized that you were right. He didn't… he never…"

Evangeline crossed the room and joined the girl on the window bench. She watched as a long tear trailed down the girl's cheek. It made a rather pretty picture. If Georgiana could manage to get her wits about her then she might be able to one day use such an expression when it was needed, instead of merely felt. Although Evangeline supposed that the young girl, who only appeared to be all of seventeen or eighteen, would probably never manage the control and discipline that was required of such a feat as crying on demand.

"It may not make you feel any better to hear it, but you were not the first to fall prey to such gross manipulations of the heart. And those who would judge you so harshly for it do not deserve you anyways," Evangeline comforted the girl.

Georgiana shook her head as her lower lip quivered. "I am a such a stupid girl," she whispered with downcast eyes.

Evangeline looked at her more a little more kindly now. She reached a hand out and laid it upon Georgiana's shoulder as she spoke the words that she wished someone had said to her back when she had been just as young and innocent and disillusioned.

"Do not ever be ashamed of grasping for love. Life is short and the world can be exceedingly cruel. There is no degradation in looking for solace in the affections of another. So few of us ever really have the opportunity to figure out what it is that we like or want. It was not your fault that Hunter Blackett is a ruthless scoundrel who delights in bringing misery to others."

Georgiana looked up at her and shook her head in disagreement. "I do not know how you bear it. The ridicule and… cruelty. Edward Kelly laughed, and asked Hunter how he'd found another young girl with such loose morals so quickly. And it is true! That is what I am, now," the girl added morosely as more tears fell down her cheeks and landed in her lap.

Evangeline pursed her lips and looked out the window at the moonlit waves as she thought of what to say and how to say it.

"Do you want him to win, Georgiana?" Evangeline asked sharply, switching tactics.

The girl looked up at Evangeline in confusion with a furrowed brow.

"Hunter 'blackheart' Blackett wants you to feel stupid, and small. He used your sweetness and your youthful idealism against you like weapons. He made a fool of you, then invited his friends to watch and revel in your moment of disgrace. He is probably, at this very moment, bragging to all of his friends that he has bedded you. He will slander your name, and he will get away with it. Your friends will turn their backs on you and laugh at you as well because they are afraid. Oh yes, you do not believe me, but it is true. Those girls will feel afraid that they are next, so they will revel in your shame because it makes them feel superior and safe. But you do not have to fall into this pit of despair that you seem to want to fling yourself into. Your brother will stand behind you. He was prepared to shoot the man, for goodness sake. And Freddie and I can be counted among your allies, if you will have us."

Georgiana looked up at Evangeline with an expression of awe and trepidation. "Why are you being so kind to me? After I said such awful things to you."

Evangeline smiled wryly and let her hand fall from the girl's shoulder to grasp her hand instead.

"I see a girl who has had enough cruelty and unkindness cast her way. Why should I add to it when I can help instead?" Evangeline lied. "Besides, the thought of wicked men like blackheart winning at the expense of poor young girls like you does not sit well with me. Why should he be rewarded for stealing a kiss when it cost you so dearly to give it?" she said truthfully.

"So how… how do we… fight back?" Georgiana asked timidly.

Evangeline grinned conspiratorially. "I have a few ideas."

* * *

Evangeline enjoyed the way that the breeze whipped at her hair and the sun beamed down at her. She'd left her large straw hat behind, as she'd been wont to do for the last two weeks since Georgiana had returned home so abruptly that one night. The girl had kept her busy, that was for certain. They'd embroidered together, walked together, picked flowers together, and gathered seashells together. Day in, and day out, Georgiana was her shadow.

Truthfully, Evangeline would have rather spent those two weeks doing other more entertaining things with Erik, but she knew how to be patient. There would be time for them to be together when they could really, truly be together and not be constantly interrupted by brothers or fiances or sisters or maids. Evangeline nearly blushed at that last though, but regained control of herself quickly by shoving it back down instead. Perhaps she'd inspect that thought further one day… but not now.

Georgiana was a loose end that needed tying up, and Evangeline was not one to avoid something just because it wasn't what she wanted to do.

This meant that her temper was short and the ache between her legs had only worsened. Even her monthly flow had only stifled her desire for a few short days. Each long, sly glance that Erik cast her way motivated her to work harder and faster. Each quickly stolen kiss and caress fueled her to keep going.

Georgiana had been her constant companion these last two weeks. She'd needed Evangeline's comfort and friendship and wisdom to prop her up until she had regained confidence in herself. But while the work was boring it had proved fruitful. Georgiana was no longer the meek hysterically crying girl who'd collapsed on the floor because a boy had been unkind to her after kissing her. And while the girl might be too good natured and soft hearted to truly thrive in the cutthroat, cruel world of their elite society, Evangeline conceded that she'd make a lovely country wife and mother.

The girls had spent these last two weeks mostly in the gardens and along the beach. And as such, Evangeline's skin had tanned slightly from the sun's relentless rays. While she no longer had the perfect, creamy pale skin coloring of the very rich and idle, she rather liked the way that it contrasted with her golden hair. It even made her stormy eyes look more blue than gray. The sun had bleached her locks even brighter, just as it had darkened her skin a shade or two. Her mother would be absolutely horrified by the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. That thought made her grin devilishly and like the changes even more.

She would miss this perfect place, when they all returned to her family's home. She told herself that it was only for a little while. And she'd be back here soon enough once she was safely married. She stared at the ocean as its waves crashed against the rocks and sent a fine spray of mist into the air. The sea was restless and chaotic today.

Jonathan cupped his hand over hers and pulled her attention back to him. She leaned into his side as they walked up and down the beach, arms linked together and heads tilted toward one another in conversation.

"You were saying?" he prodded.

She had to think for a moment before she remembered where she'd left off.

"The best solution, I think, is the simplest. You should bring her with you," she advised.

"To the musicale? It's rather soon, don't you think?"

"On the contrary, that's exactly why she must come along. If she waits out the rest of the season and hides in your estate all winter then the gossips will merely have more time to do their work. Indeed, she will do half of their work for them if she hides herself away in shame. It will be better for her if she faces them with her head held high. If she slinks away with her tail between her legs then they will only assume that all of what is said is true," she explained.

Jonathan looked down at her, then chewed his lip and turned his gaze back out to the sea.

Evangeline took the opportunity to look back towards the house where Freddie and Erik were seated with Georgiana in the garden. Erik glanced her way, and she smiled at him before she forced herself to look away.

"It's not that I don't believe you…" he began.

Evangeline arched a brow at him. "But?"

"I do not mean to offend you, Evangeline. Not when you are doing me, and now my sister, a great kindness. But I recall your own… disastrous event. I was not too much older than you, if you remember, so we attended some of the same events together. And I remember the particular party that was involved, and then the whole sordid happenings afterwards. The gossips will wag their sharp tongues regardless of whether or not she is there to hold her head high and pretend that she does not hear them. You gained very little by suffering through it as I recall. I would rather spare her and her feelings from that for as long as I can," he concluded thoughtfully.

Evangeline smiled up at him and squeeze his hand. "You are a good brother. And I do not want you to ever feel that you can not speak your mind to me, even if you think that it will not be what I want to hear. And it is true, as you have said, the gossips will do what they will regardless of whether she is there or not. But that matters very little, really. Not when you consider that my mother has done half of your work for you," she disagreed.

Jonathan searched her eyes, then looked away. "I don't understand," he admitted as he glanced at her again, more warily this time.

"My own… disastrous event… as you recall, was rather more shocking than just a kiss. And yet in a week's time half of the Ton will be at my family's estate for the event of the season. Two-thirds of the guest list are men who are desperate to make a match for a variety of reasons. Some are poor, some are fifth in line for their title, others are old and fat. But there must be at least one of them who is sufferable. And not all of them will value a girl's virtue more highly than wealth, a good title, or beauty. And Georgiana has all three, luckily."

Jonathan made a noise in the back of his throat, then sighed dramatically. "If it is such a simple thing, then why were you not married after your own such… indiscretion?"

Evangeline glanced at him with a look of disbelief on her face and laughed. "You assume that I _wanted_ a husband. Believe me, if I had wanted one then I would have had one. And it would not have been half as challenging to get one as you seem to believe."

"Don't most girls? Want husbands, I mean?" he questioned her in earnest looking confusion.

Evangeline shrugged and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Most girls, yes. Georgiana certainly does. She's told me just as much."

"What _do_ you want?" he whispered so softly that she almost didn't hear him as more waves crashed ashore.

Evangeline was quiet as she thought about what he'd asked her. "My freedom," she answered. But the sound of the waves crashing along the rocky outcropping and the wind swallowed her words.

He sighed. "I still don't understand how attending the musicale will fix her reputation."

"Simply put, Jonathan, we are not trying to fix her reputation. We will simply work around that. It won't matter in the end, really. Because her being present at my musicale will put her in a room full of eligible bachelors who are in desperate want of a wife, and who can be convinced to overlook a discretion or two for the right reason," she summarized jadedly.

Evangeline looked back up to the garden where Georgiana sat. She smiled as the girl caught her gaze and waved at them. Evangeline unclasped Jonathan's arm to wave back and faked a big, wide grin.

She turned her head to look back at Jonathan with a conspiratorial smile. "And we will give them a reason."


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

**Author's Notes:** Unedited chapters may be read on A.O.X.3 by searching for the same title.

* * *

Erik unbuttoned his trousers and let his hand trail down his stomach until he grasped himself. He released his erection from the confines of his pants gingerly. Already he was near release just from recalling the way that Evangeline had nestled into his side at that afternoon's music lesson. That brief hour in the morning and then again in the afternoon were the only times that he ever got her alone. Although with the arrival of the Baron's little sister she'd dutifully insisted that they keep the door open and their hands to themselves. He could have strangled that little girl if it meant that he could then get at least an hour of time alone with Evangeline. Except that she seemed quite fond of Georgiana, so he hadn't. He grumbled in irritation as he recalled the Baron's sister's near constant manipulation of Evangeline's time and attentions. Erik was not a man who shared well and his patience was growing thin with every passing day.

His hand gripped the base of himself as he stroked and spread the bead of gathering fluid. It was not what he wanted. No, what he wanted was to tell Evangeline to go shove her sensibilities. He would bury his hand in her hair and bend her over the piano, flip her skirts up over her head, find the slit in her drawers, then bury himself inside of her in one movement until she screamed his name.

When he'd told her just as much she'd merely laughed and blushed and kissed him quickly before disappearing with some vague excuse about needlepoint and a smile that promised _later_. Except that later never came. Days had turned into weeks.

Erik hissed as his grip tightened and his stroking increased. His hips bucked in a mockery of what he wanted to do between Evangeline's spread thighs. But she wasn't here, spread out before him and wanting him, so he made do his hand instead.

The familiar feeling of tightening need settled into him as he pictured Evangeline's face. Her lips parted parted in innocent surprise as she came, and he wondered if she knew the exact shade of pink that she flushed when she orgasmed. It was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen.

If he closed his eyes and focused he could still smell her. That was his fault, really. He'd been unable to resist the temptation of placing his mouth on that sweet, dripping cunt once he'd tasted her. Except that he was wearing his white leather mask at the time. Her fluids had smeared across the lower portion that covered the skin by his jaw and lip, and no matter how much he'd cleaned it afterwards he could swear that he could still smell the scent of her arousal sometimes.

His hand pumped up and down as he pictured her, back arched and head thrown back in bliss as he worked his fingers inside of her and brought her to the precipice of pleasure.

She'd obeyed his orders and spread her legs for him. How could he not reward her trust in him by setting his mouth to her? She'd seemed surprised. Maybe he'd taken a first of hers after all.

That thought did more for him now than his hand ever could as Erik felt his release building within him. He stroked himself and teased his body as flashes of her danced before his eyes. He wanted to feel her body under his as he buried into her and merged them into one being with the same desire. His need reached its zenith, and then he gave himself four more hard strokes as his orgasm ripped through him. He grunted through his own release.

He caught the mess easily in his hand, then found the handkerchief that he'd set aside for just this purpose. He cleaned himself up, then tucked himself away back into his pants with a sigh.

Lately this had been the only way that he could suffer through the agony of sharing her attentions. It was the only way that he could maintain his composure long enough to get through dinner or their too brief music lessons. They hadn't even been able to retire to the study to read together, or do other things, after dinner. Not like they'd done before Georgiana's arrival. That girl followed Evangeline around like a shadow.

Erik squeezed his eyes shut and buttoned his pants closed. This was all getting on his last damned nerve.

* * *

At dinner that night Erik was surprised to hear Evangeline and Freddie talking about planning the return trip their family's estate tomorrow. He added the days up in his head and realized that a month had passed already since they'd arrived here at the Baron's beach house. The musicale would be coming up shortly, then. And with it, Erik's excuse to be in England with Evangeline was soon to be over.

He glanced at her and caught her eye. She grinned at him and hid her smile in her wine glass as she took a small sip of her drink.

Dread filled him as he realized that he'd be leaving her soon. It was ironic, really. He'd been so eager to leave at first, and now it was quite the opposite. He wasn't prepared for this at all. He'd never expected to fall in love with her. But how could he resist? She teased, and tempted, and tormented him in every way, and just when he thought that he'd figured her out she would concede to him in an argument, or seek him out just to kiss him before running away again with a smirk on her lips and a promise of more to come later in her eyes.

Freddie recommended a last hurrah to celebrate the end of their summer escape. Jonathan suggested a beachside bonfire and a few bottles of good wine from the cellar. Evangeline and Georgiana heartily agreed and so their plans for the night were set.

Somehow, in the midst of the planning, he'd been roped into helping the men build the fire pit and gather up the firewood. Thankfully Jonathan said that he kept a stack on hand at all times, so nothing would need to be cut.

Evangeline glanced at him and smiled. "Sounds like fun."

He wondered if she realized that he would do anything she asked if she simply agreed to look at him like that forever.

* * *

Erik twisted a sheaf of paper and lit it with a match. He placed it carefully into the center pile of his kindling, and the girls cheered when the tiny pile of twigs and paper caught. He added smaller splinters of wood to the pile, then arranged the logs appropriately by size. Soon enough the bonfire had caught and embers sparked into the air as the logs hissed and popped and the fire roared to life.

Their little misfit group sat around the fire on blankets that the girls had spread out a safe distance away in the sand.

He glanced sideways at Evangeline, to memorize the curve of her cheek and the sparkle in her eye as the firelight was reflected on her beautiful face. The warm, rosy glow of the fire accented her sun kissed, freckled skin. A month at the beach had made her even more beautiful than ever before. He wanted to kiss each one of her new freckles as she lay underneath him in the sand.

"I must say I'm rather impressed with the improvements you've made in my sister," Freddie said.

Erik was pulled from his thoughts as he glanced at the boy warily. Freddie merely smirked in response at the not-so-subtle insinuation.

"Her piano playing is leaps and bounds better than her previous attempts. She was quite terrible before you arrived," Freddie added.

"I don't think that I've ever actually heard you play," Georgiana remarked to Evangeline, oblivious.

"You'll hear me at the recital, of course. Until then it should be a secret, should it not?" Evangeline evaded the girl deftly.

"It has been delightful having you here," the Baron said diplomatically. "After the season ends, do you intend to stay in England, sir?" The man's voice was even and pleasant. It was an offer, not a threat, Erik surmised.

Erik's eyes flickered between the Baron and Evangeline. He didn't miss the stiffening of her shoulders or the Baron's thoughtful looks.

"I hadn't considered that far ahead," Erik admitted truthfully.

Indeed, he hadn't. He'd been so wrapped up in the moment these past few weeks that he'd stopped planning out the future. He'd always intended to leave once his job was done. But now he wasn't so certain. He thought about his quiet, sunny flat in Venice. He pictured Evangeline leaning on his balcony as she looked down at the passing gondolas. There was so much that he could show her. She'd never left her country. Although she'd admitted to him one night that she longed to travel and see the world. Her parents had forbidden it due to her lung condition. He considered what he might show her of his home. The concert hall where he played on rare occasions, the salon where he met with his small circle of friends on Fridays, the restaurants where he dined at with the Persian on Saturdays. He realized suddenly that whenever he thought of Venice, he thought of her there too. He glanced at her from the corner of her eye and saw the pained, tight crinkles at the corners of her eyes that she was trying so desperately to mask.

"You've seen so very little of England, really, being trapped here in just the countryside" Evangeline murmured. _I don't want you to go,_ she seemed to say.

Freddie was glancing between the two of them. The boy looked horrified to see what his careless comments had started.

"London is absolutely spectacular!" Georgiana concurred obtusely. "Even if it smells horrendous sometimes," she added in softer tones as if she was sharing some great secret.

The Baron glanced between all of them, then chose the wiser course of action by staying silent and slinging his bottle of wine to his lips, taking a long swallow.

"It's worth much consideration," Erik added to buy himself some time. _I don't want to leave you, but I'm not certain that I can stay._

Except that there wasn't any time left, really. Just a month. A month that he'd hoped to spend in blissful company with Evangeline as he worshipped her beneath him like a goddess. But now he realized that a month of her would never be enough to slake his thirst. How had he deluded himself into thinking that once he had her, he could walk away from her? His passions ran deep- often into obsession. Christine could have corroborated that. She'd borne the brunt of his unrequited love once upon a time, and she had walked away with the scars to prove it after it was all done. And all Christine had ever done was kiss him twice out of pity.

Evangeline had kissed him because she saw the man behind the monster.

He wondered how deep the girl's affections ran. Did she love him as he loved her? Would it change things if she did?

He realized in that moment that he could not leave Evangeline. And yet, he could not stay here indefinitely, either. What was he to do? Live in the Baron's household, cuckold the man every night… and be satisfied with only that? She hardly had any time for him now, what with Georgiana's near constant demands on her attention. What was he to do if Evangeline's feelings for him waned one day and she left him with nothing afterwards? He was not a man who handled idleness or rejection well. He could accept the darker sides of his nature now for he'd come to terms with it shortly after leaving Paris... but could she? Or would she flee from him in terror too once she knew him better? He liked to hope that she was different- that she loved him too. But he was too terrified to ask her. His heart would shatter if she denied it. It would crush him beyond repair if he was just some dark amusement to her- a monster to tame and take to bed and laugh at later when she grew bored and had no further need of him.

He winced at that line of thinking.

Erik ignored the rest of the conversation unless he was asked a direct question. Freddie and the Baron seemed more than willing enough to fill the awkward silence themselves. The two men had an easiness between them that belied their years of friendship. Georgiana was blessedly silent. And Evangeline seemed intent to drink herself into oblivion as she sat quietly to his right. She laughed at the appropriate points of the conversation and added a few teasing barbs of her own in her brother's directions. But the line of her back was stiff, and her face fell into sadness whenever she thought that no one was watching her.

Erik felt despair settle into him to a degree that he hadn't felt since that awful night of his failed opera.

He looked at Evangeline as he tried to commit to memory the narrow line of her jaw, the shape of her rosy cheek, and the way that wisps of hair framed her sad, soft eyes as she glanced at him warily across the expanse that had sprung up between them.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Author's Note:** Unedited chapters are available on A O X3 under the same title.

* * *

Freddie glanced nervously between his sister and Erik. A dreadful feeling of unease had settled into him as Erik made vague remarks about his future plans, or lack thereof. Had the two of them not even discussed these things? They'd been mooning over each other for months now. Had they not even had a conversation yet, or had they been too busy with their tongues down each others throats to get a word in edgewise? He wanted to reach across the fire and slap his sister upside the back of her head. But with Georgiana here there wasn't much that he could say or do. The girl might be oblivious but even that could only be pushed so far. It would have to wait for later.

Jonathan took a longer sip of wine than was prudent. Freddie had to silently concur. The only way to make all of this tensions more pleasant was to get rip roaring drunk. Thankfully enough, it was his favorite state of being, and so it was easy to do.

Freddie tipped his own bottle to his lips and chugged, which only earned him a scathing glare from Eva.

Being silently chided by Eva with eyes that looked like they wanted to set him on fire only made him take longer sips. This had all been her plan, and it had been brilliant. And now it was crashing down around their feet because she'd been too busy making eyes at her lover these last few weeks to bloody talk to him on the level.

Their group chatted a little more, but the tension in the air dampened everyone's enjoyment. Well… everyone's enjoyment except for Georgiana. Jonathan's little sister was too busy regaling them with stories of her time in London to notice the looks of bittersweet longing between Eva and the music tutor. Honestly, why would the girl think they wanted to hear about dress shopping and gossip over tea? It was all so boring and trite. And if he'd wanted to put up with the boring stuffiness of the _Ton_ then he'd have bloody well gone to London for the summer instead of coming home.

He drained the rest of his wine and watched as Jonathan did the same. Eva was more than halfway through her bottle too, although neither Georgiana nor Erik had touched theirs much. Still, from the way that the little sister's speech was slurring and her eyes were glassy it didn't look like she'd have needed to drink much more in order to become intoxicated. He supposed that she didn't drink much, so she couldn't have been blamed for not having much of a tolerance to speak of.

Freddie cast a sideways look towards his lover and nodded surreptitiously towards the house. At least one of them should be able to enjoy their last evening of freedom before they had to face their parents. And if it wasn't going to be Eva then it may as well be him.

Jonathan, thankfully, seemed to gather his meaning and excused himself with a story about fetching more wine from the cellars.

Freddie suppressed his grin and let a moment pass before he loudly lamented on the empty state of his own bottle and offered to help Jonathan carry their empty bottles back. Eva downed the rest of her wine then thrust it into Freddie's hands with a look that he didn't even want to begin to try to decipher.

The two of them pointedly ignored Eva's withering glares and Erik's confused glances and Georgiana's incessant, non-stop chatter as they excused themselves from the fire and teeter tottered up the long, winding trail towards the house.

It took far more effort and concentration than either of them would ever admit for the two of them to manage it up the stone staircase that led from the beach to the garden, but they made it eventually and without incidence.

"Well that was awkward," Jonathan summarised as they bypassed servants and stepped down into the cellars.

"No kidding," Freddie agreed. His head was delightfully fuzzy as the wine relaxed him into a blissful state of intoxication.

Jonathan led him through the winding maze of wine racks until they ended up in an alcove at the back.

"Does it change things?" Jonathan asked with a hint of unease in his voice.

Freddie thinned his lips and scrunched his face in thought as he reached out towards his lover. He wrapped a reassuring arm around Jonathan's waist as they stepped into one another.

"I don't think so," Freddie answered, although his voice was not as sure as he'd have hoped. He thought on it a little more. "Eva doesn't make false promises," he added, more confidently.

Jonathan nodded and gave him a wry smile as he cupped a light hand against the back of Freddie's neck.

"Now then," Freddie said as he licked his lips and smiled up at his lover. "I believe that we came here for more wine?"

Jonathan stared at him for a moment before his mouth tipped up at the corners too.

"Did we now?" Jonathan teased back with an arched brow as he stroked fingers lightly up and down Freddie's neck. The featherlight movement sent a thrill through Freddie and sent a surge of blood flow headed south.

"Indeed… however, now that I am thinking of it, perhaps we have both had enough wine for one evening," Freddie murmured softly. "We do have to be up fairly early for traveling tomorrow…"

The hand at the back of Freddie's neck threaded up into his hair and tightened almost painfully. Freddie swallowed the gasp that threatened to escape.

"Such impudence," Jonathan feigned in bored tones. "To lure me down here with promises of wine, then change your mind."

Freddie wanted to grin even wider as the fingers in his hair tightened and pulled until he was forced to tip his head back slightly or risk losing a few strands. But the pain only added to his desire as his cock throbbed to life. He swallowed thickly.

"Forgive me, sir, it was not my intention to disappoint you," Freddie begged. Of all of their games this one was his favorite. He struggled to keep the eager smile from his face.

Jonathan stared down at him with a cold, imposing look, then tipped his head to the side as if he was considering something of great importance.

"Perhaps you will merely need to make it up to me in other ways," Jonathan said, falsely impassive.

Freddie nodded eagerly, even as the movement pulled at his hair even more. He twitched with each throb of pain. He let his hand, which was still wrapped around Jonathan's back, glide south until he was gripping his lover's backside. He gave it a squeeze and felt Jonathan stiffen in response between their pressed together hips.

"I do not take kindly to being disappointed. You will simply have to work twice as hard to make it up to me," Jonathan added sternly with flashing eyes.

"Yes, sir," Freddie said softly with what he hoped could pass as meek acceptance. "I won't disappoint you, sir."

And then Jonathan released Freddie's hair to instead place a hand on the top of Freddie's head.

Freddie allowed himself to be pushed gently towards the ground as he landed on his knees on the cellar floors. His hands worked fast on Jonathan's trousers as their eyes never broke contact.

Jonathan stared down at Freddie blankly even as he was pulled free from the now too tight trousers. "See that you don't," Jonathan added warningly.

Freddie merely took his lover into his mouth and stroked him with his tongue as he fisted his hands obediently onto his own knees and sucked.

Jonathan's head tipped back as a moan escaped him and he gripped the wine rack behind him for support.

If his mouth wasn't busy Freddie would have grinned at the sight of his stern lover coming undone before him. He wondered, as he did sometimes, which one of them held the actual power here when they played their little games together like this.

Freddie let him slip almost free of his mouth before he wrapped his lips around it again and slid it back down towards his throat. He kept the pressure even and his tongue flicked forward as Jonathan moaned but held relatively still above him.

Another few sucks and licks later and Jonathan had fisted a hand into Freddie's hair again as Freddie ran his tongue along the underside and teased.

Only the sounds of Jonathan's soft moans and Freddie's diligent sucking filled the cellar.

"Enough," Jonathan whispered hoarsely as if his voice was tired from screaming.

Freddie stopped immediately and stared up at his lover in confusion as Jonathan withdrew himself from Freddie's mouth, unfinished.

"Pants off, and then over that barrel," Jonathan ordered as he nodded towards a cask of whiskey in the corner.

Freddie stared at the mentioned barrel for a moment, then turned back to his lover. "But we haven't any oil," he protested weakly. He might enjoy a little pain now and again, but he was not a true masochist.

Jonathan chuckled and reached back behind him as he grabbed a bottle of wine down from the rack.

"Ah! An 1864 Pinot Grigio. What an excellent vintage," Jonathan muttered, mostly to himself. The man glanced at Freddie with a scowl as he motioned between where Freddie was kneeling and the barrel and clucked his tongue against his teeth.

Freddie stood in order to unbutton his pants as Jonathan searched about for a corkscrew.

"You brought me down here on the promises of wine," Jonathan said as he made a noise of success and lifted a corkscrew into the air, then began to screw it into the bottle's wax covered cork stopper.

Freddie pulled one leg and then the other out of his pants, then folded them neatly and placed them on one of the wine racks.

"I _really_ can't be blamed for it," Jonathan continued, "if I take you for your word."

Freddie stood in the slightly chilly cellar in just his shirt and socks and shoes. His dripping cock bobbed in the cool, damp air and a blush stole across his face. There was always something even more humiliating about having sex with clothes on. Although he'd never admit to Jonathan how much he enjoyed it. Still, he expected that his lover knew. Jonathan was nothing if not observant.

Jonathan pinched the mechanism of the corkscrew and tugged the handle skillfully until the cork popped free. The man turned and grinned, then narrowed his eyes since Freddie was still standing there in the middle of the cellar.

"Over the barrel, love," Jonathan ordered with a hint of steel in his voice.

Freddie moved to face the barrel as he'd been ordered. He leaned over it and was not surprised at all when Jonathan kicked his legs further apart, forcing Freddie to lean on the barrel for support.

And then Freddie felt two damp fingers pressing against his entrance even as Jonathan's other hand was stroking his legs and backside.

Freddie twitched against the rough wood of the barrel that he was being pressed against as he gripped it for support. He forced himself to relax as Jonathan pressed two slick fingers into him. The slight discomfort gave way into pleasure as his lover's fingers stretched and prepared him. More wetness was splashed against him as Jonathan poured a stream of wine onto him and worked it in. A trickle of it ran down his leg, and suddenly he regretted not taking off his socks and shoes as well. But then again, Jonathan probably would not have let him. It simply added to the embarrassment.

He moaned as Jonathan stretched and prepped him with wine slicked fingers and his own desire swelled and twitched painfully against the rough wood of the barrel. His hips twitched against it into a slight thrusting rhythm as Jonathan undid him with fingers and the pleasure began to rise towards its pack. The wine wasn't a perfect substitute for their usual oil, but it was just slick enough to make it bearable.

Jonathan's fingers were withdrawn to be replaced with the familiar feeling of Jonathan teasing against him as his lover gripped him by his hips and thrust into him inch by inch so very slowly.

Freddie threw his head back and moaned as Jonathan sank into him carefully, and then began to move. His own pleasure began to build again as Jonathan moved against him and brushed some bundle of nerves within him.

He wished that they were in Jonathan's bed, instead of in the damp cold cellar, so that he could reach down to stroke himself as Jonathan made love to him from behind. Instead he had to settle for rubbing his painfully engorged erection against the unyielding barrel as Jonathan took him in the wine cellar.

Fingers dug into his hips as Jonathan's pace increased and became frantic. Freddie's own orgasm was too far off for now, so he focused instead on holding still as Jonathan thrust in and out of him.

And then Jonathan's moans filled the cellars and the hips behind his own increased their pace and then stuttered. The fingers at his hips were tight as Jonathan gave one last surge in and out, and then another, and then he was still.

At Jonathan's chuckle freddie craned his head around to see his lover sling the bottle of wine up to his lips and drink a large portion.

"Are you serious?" Freddie asked incredulously as Jonathan drank from the very same bottle of wine.

"Waste not, want not, love," Jonathan replied cheekily and took another sip. And then Jonathan pulled out from him and Freddie was left with the leaking trail of mess that was running down his thigh to puddle into his sock as he stood up.

Jonathan stared down at Freddie and arched a brow in suggestion. "And for all of your protesting you don't seem to have minded that quite as much as you're pretending."

Freddie scowled at him a little until Jonathan reached out and grabbed him and stroked. He closed his eyes as Jonathan teased and toyed with him and he felt his irritation fading as his pleasure grew.

Cold dampness washed down him and made him hiss in surprise. He opened his eyes and saw that Jonathan was kneeling before him now, something he rarely did, and his lover was tipping the wine bottle over his exposed body.

"Besides, it would be _such_ a shame to waste a perfectly good vintage," Jonathan added. And then Jonathan was wrapping his lips around Freddie and sucking the wine from him.

"Your perversions know no bounds," Freddie muttered.

And then Freddie groaned and leaned against the barrel for support as Jonathan's mouth slid up and down.

Startled by the rarity of such a thing, Freddie decided that he didn't mind the messiness so much since Jonathan seemed intent to clean it all up with his tongue.

A few strokes and licks and sucks later and it was Freddie's turn to find release as Jonathan swallowed dutifully and set the wine bottle aside.

"And you love me for it," Jonathan declared once he was able.

Freddie grinned down at his lover as the man kneeled at his feet. "Everyday," Freddie admitted freely.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

Evangeline managed to steal Georgiana's three-fourths full bottle of wine when the girl was distracted. She pointedly ignored Erik's curious, timid glances as she sipped from it. Nevermind that it was giving her a headache as it always did. She needed the fuzziness that the wine brought along with the bloody headache now that her world was crashing down around her yet again.

Were all her schemes destined for failure? Why was the universe so set on wearing her down like waves beating against a rock until nothing remained but sand? Was it not enough to grow up knowing that she'd never be good enough to satisfy her mother, regardless of how hard she tried? Or that she'd never go to University as Freddie has done. Or that she'd be forced into a loveless marriage because her family's lineage and society demanded it of her. Now she was to be forced to suffer through finding the _one_ person who understood her, wanted her, and maybe even cared for her, only to lose him in four weeks because she wasn't worth staying for.

She decided that there really must be a God, because it was unfathomable to her in that moment that the universe could be so pointedly cruel without some force behind it driving it along towards entropy. So that left her with wondering what she could have possibly have done to have deserved such cruelties.

Evangeline took a long sip of wine and tried to force the mutinous emotions and thoughts back down before the tears spilled over.

Georgiana, as always, was oblivious.

"What is your family estate like?" the girl asked.

"Quite large," Evangeline answered roughly.

Georgiana finally took notice that something might be amiss as the girl stared at Evangeline with a curious look.

Evangeline cursed herself for being so foolish and forgetful, then forced a pleasant smile onto her face. "It's been added onto by various ancestors, you see. The result is charming, if a little confusing at times. I will give you a grand tour once we are settled in tomorrow. The estate has twenty-three guestrooms, plus a dozen for the family, and another twenty for the staff. And there's a glass house, a large garden, a small ballroom, two dining rooms, and an enormously well-stocked library."

Georgia smiled, apparently mollified. "And you have sitting rooms?"

Evangeline stopped herself from rolling her eyes, but just barely. She set the wine bottle into the sand beside her. Perhaps it would be best if she stopped before she made things even worse. "Of course," she said with saccharine sweetness. "You will like the rose room, best, I think. Mother has decorated it in seafoam green with pink cabbage roses."

Georgiana nodded and looked eager to see it. "That sounds absolutely lovely. I adore roses."

Evangeline contained her snort. Of course she would.

"Pink is my favorite color," the girl announced.

Evangeline bit back her withering comment. Of course it was.

Erik stirred beside her and drew her attention away from Georgiana's ceaseless chatter about the girl's order of preference for rose colors.

Evangeline flicked her eyes towards him, then looked away. No, they couldn't talk here. Not now. Not with _her_ there.

He bent his knee then settled an arm onto it and leaned forward towards her. Evangeline felt fear grip her. She would not do this. She would not allow him to make his excuses now and break her heart in front of this silly girl. She refused to be weak and let Georgiana see her at her weakest crying real tears. Fake tears, perhaps, but never real ones.

"Georgiana," Evangeline interrupted the girl's incessant chatter. "Would you like to gather up some more seashells? We could bring them home with us tomorrow and decorate the gardens with them."

"Oh that sounds lovely," Georgiana agreed and stood up.

Evangeline watched the girl brush sand from her skirts.

"Are you not coming?" the girl asked.

Evangeline made shooing motions with her hands but smiled to soften the refusal, "I am a little too tipsy, I think, to wander about by the waves, but I would dearly love to see what you can find and then tomorrow we will spread them by the roses together."

Georgiana nodded but seemed a little hesitant to leave the fire.

"Go on! The moon is full, you will be able to see well enough. I think I saw some truly remarkable purple ones down by the large boulders yesterday. They would look ever so lovely by the pink rose bushes," Evangeline prodded gently.

Finally the girl agreed and padded off to go shelling one last time.

Before Erik could break the silence Evangeline held her hand up in the air to stop him. "Don't," she whispered. "Please… don't. I just… I want to pretend that you are not about to explain to me all of the reasons why you can not stay here… with me. Can't we just pretend, for a little while, that you don't plan to leave?" she begged him as she looked out at the rolling waves. She couldn't bare to look at him right now while he was breaking her heart yet again.

The pin pricking of tears threatened her eyes and Evangeline bit the inside of her lip hard to deter it.

"Eva," he started, his voice low and soft.

She shut her eyes and shook her head. "Please, let us just enjoy our time together… what little of it we have left," she added once she was sure that she could keep her voice even.

A thought flitted through her mind and she latched onto it and spoke before she could think about it twice and change her mind. "Do you know how to fight?" Evangeline asked Erik quickly as she turned towards him on her blanket.

He looked at her surprised, and was quiet for a moment as if he was trying to figure her out.

"Yes," Erik admitted finally as he stared at her.

"With your fists, I mean," Evangeline clarified needlessly.

The corner of his mouth tipped up as he grinned at her. "That's typically what people mean when they speak of fighting," he said sarcastically.

"So that's a yes, then?" she sassed back. And some of the tension between them lifted as they returned to some sense of normalcy. The threat of tears passed as she felt some small sense of control ease back into her.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"So you could teach me, then?" Evangeline probed pointedly.

Erik leaned back a bit and tipped his head to side and studied her. He shrugged. "If you wish. Although I am not certain why you'd wish to learn."

Evangeline gave him a mischievous smile. "I made a promise, if you will recall. And I always keep my promises."

He looked at her thoughtfully, then stared at the fire for a bit. Eventually he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion because he stood and grabbed her hand to haul her upright.

"Raise your arms and make fists, keep your elbows bent and your hands close to your body," he began. "No, put your thumb on the outside. If you throw a punch with your thumb tucked into your fingers you'll merely break it," he chided her gently.

Evangeline reformed her fists and smiled when he nodded. He mimicked the jutting nature of a punch and she watched as he twisted a little at the hip as he swung his arm forward. She'd had no idea that one used their whole body when they meant to strike another person. But it was a little like how one lunges in fencing, so the movement was not so completely foreign to her.

"Keep your knees bent and your stance as wide as your shoulders so that you don't lose balance," he instructed.

Evangeline squared her shoulders and widened her stance a little. Her feet fell into the familiar footwork that she'd learned as an adolescent alongside Freddie.

"Now, instead of merely trying to hit your target, you should instead pretend that you are hitting a box just behind them. Your force will travel further and do more damage that way," he added.

She pantomimed punching someone three times and tried not to lean into him as he moved towards her to correct her posture like he had the first time she played the piano for him. He'd settled into his tutor persona well enough, but she hadn't counted on herself becoming distracted too. It was a bit unsettling how often that happened around him.

"Good," he proclaimed. "Now strike me," he ordered.

"What?" she asked, completely surprised.

He arched a brow at her. "What good is learning to throw a punch if you are too afraid to hit another person?" he goaded her.

Evangeline scoffed. "I am not afraid to hit another person," she protested.

He grinned, and seemed pleased with her answer. "So you're just too timid to hit _me_, then?"

She scowled at him, then smirked as she settled back into her fighter's stance and raised her fists back into position. "Challenge accepted, sir," she said to give him just enough warning before she let her fist fly towards his face.

At the last second of her punch Evangeline realized that since she was right handed her fist was now headed straight towards the masked side of his face. She'd grown so used to it that she often forgot that it was there. It had simply become another part of him. But it was too late now for her to stop her momentum as she punched him.

Erik moved so fast that she hadn't even seen him shift before she realized that he had someone managed to catch her up into a locking hold. He'd grabbed her fist and used the force of her movement to turn her so that her back was held tight against his chest. His arm was twisted around hers, and her fist was clasped lightly in his own grip as he caught her before she could stumble drunkenly into the fire. She was far tipsier than she'd thought.

She laughed at the sheer surprise of being caught so off guard as she collapsed her weight against him. But then the fingers of his other hand ghosted along her ribs and waist as he held her to him. It was the closest that they'd been in weeks, and the sudden proximity set her need for him on fire even as she relaxed into his grip.

Even as distraught as she was that he planned to leave her and had never told her so, she realized that she still wanted him. It was pure, unadulterated selfishness. She realized that her words from earlier were true. If they only had a month together then she would make it the best month of their lives. Even if it would only hurt her more when he eventually left her. Perhaps that made her a masochist. Or perhaps it was just denial. Did she still hold out hope that in four weeks he'd change his mind? _Well it's worth trying._

His fingers drifted up her torso towards her breasts when a gasp sounded from just a few feet away.

Evangeline's eyes shot open. She hadn't even been aware that she'd shut them. But now they were open again and she was staring at a very confused and slightly scandalized looking Georgiana.

"Eva?" the girl asked warily. Seashells dropped down into the blanket as the girl raised a hand towards her face and glanced between the two of them.

Evangeline felt the flare of anger in her belly but shoved it back down, alongside the arousal that Erik had resurfaced so easily with just a touch.

"Georgie!" she exclaimed happily as Erik released his hold of her and helped set her upright in the moving sand. "Erik was just teaching me how to punch. But I think the wine has made me even more tipsy than I'd thought. I slipped, and he was good enough to catch me. Do you want to learn fisticuffs as well?" Evangeline asked in a rush of feigned enthusiasm. The best lies were the ones told with just enough truth to make them both believable, and memorable. Erik's fingers withdrew from her as Evangeline settled back onto her own two feet.

"Why would I want to learn how to fight?" Georgiana asked warily as she shifted on her feet.

Evangeline faked confusion as she glanced between the girl and Erik. "Well, it never hurts to learn a new skill. And who knows when it might come in handy? London can be a very dangerous place sometimes."

"I do not think that it is proper for ladies to learn how to fight," Georgiana protested.

"Less proper than being mugged in a dirty alley by a ruffian?" Evangeline asked a bit too aggressively.

"Why would I ever be in an alley?" Georgiana asked, a little horrified sounding.

Evangeline suddenly realized who she was speaking to and merely nodded her head. "You're right, of course, I don't think that you ever would be. But it never hurts to learn, just in case. What would you do if you were being attacked?" she asked curiously.

"I would scream," Georgiana said, as if the answer were obvious.

Evangeline bit the tip of her tongue to stop herself. Of course the girl would scream. She'd properly scream her proper head off until she got stuck in the ribs with a knife and was properly murdered like a good little girl. But there seemed little hope of convincing the poor girl otherwise, and there was no reason to scandalize her further when there was nothing for Evangeline to gain from it. So Evangeline bit down her sharp retorts of _what if there was no one to hear you_ as well as _what if there wasn't a man there to save you _and she settled for a smile that she hoped didn't look too condescending.

"Of course. Well… did you find any good seashells?" Evangeline asked to distract the chit.

Georgiana bent down to retrieve her meager collection of shells. Evangeline stepped away from Erik and pretended to coo over each and everyone of them until Georgiana was smiling easily again.

"No purple ones?" Evangeline asked with a note of disappointment in her voice.

Georgiana shook her head. "I did not see any."

"Did you look over by where Jonathan and I were walking the other day?" Evangeline hinted.

"No, I did not go that far," the girl denied.

"Oh… I see… no… no this is fine… I suppose. Only… well, these will do, I guess. I'd just thought that the purple ones would be so pretty with the pink roses and I know that those are your favorite flowers. Everytime I see the pink roses with the purple shells I will think of you and our friendship. But we can do without them… I suppose," Evangeline maneuvered.

Georgiana bit her lip and looked between the seashells in her hands and then back up at Evangeline's carefully disappointed, sad face.

"I could go and look again," Georgiana offered weakly as she carefully set the collection of shells onto the blanket.

"You would not mind?" Evangeline exclaimed.

And then before the girl could say anything further Evangeline had kissed her cheek and turned her about with a pat on the back to spur her forward. Georgiana wandered off onto the moonlit beach with just one last look over her shoulder as Evangeline turned her attentions back towards Erik.

Erik looked down at her with an amused smirk. "There are no purple shells," he guessed once Georgiana was out of earshot.

Evangeline grinned and held a finger to her lips. "Would I lie about such a thing?" she mused aloud in a teasing voice.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Absolutely."

Evangeline threw her shoulders back and shifted her feet and hips back into position as she raised her fists back up into place. "Those sound like fighting words," she cautioned.

Erik was no less prepared for her this time as Evangeline threw a punch at him. She was no longer scared of hitting him since he'd so easily disabled her before. Indeed, he merely raised a palm to absorb each blow as she swung at him until they were both laughing and tired from the exertion. Her knuckles were pink and smarting from hitting his open palms. She wondered idly what would happen to them if she actually hit a man properly.

When her arms were aching and her head was swimming (she'd not been lying about how much wine she'd drunk, she really was tipsy) she collapsed wearily into the sands and held her hands up in mock surrender.

"Take pity!" she beseeched as he settled down next to her.

"You're getting very good," he humored her.

Evangeline cut her eyes at him, entirely unimpressed. "You no longer get to call me a liar, maestro."

He grinned at her, and Evangeline wondered if he knew how handsome he looked when he let himself forget to be self-conscious.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. And then Erik leaned forward, grabbed her chin in his fingers, and kissed her deeply before she could think to protest. When he pulled away she tugged her chin from his fingers and cast a wary eye down the beach where Georgiana had disappeared down earlier.

"She might see," Evangeline cautioned.

Erik shook his head and tried to kiss her again before Evangeline put her hands on his chest and shoved him back. It hurt to reject him like this. But they needed to be careful, or else they risked everything.

"She won't. She went back up to the house a few minutes ago," he told her.

Evangeline's eyes widened in surprise as she glanced down the empty beach, then swiveled to look up towards the dark house.

"What?" she asked in alarm, no longer trying to keep her voice quiet. "How long has she been gone?"

"Only a few minutes," he answered, sounding confused. "I thought you'd be pleased. We rarely get any alone time now."

Dread sank into Evangeline's belly as she considered why Georgiana would leave without saying anything. Her eyes scanned the blankets by the bonfire and noticed that the seashells and wine bottles were gone.

"She's gone to the cellars… to show the shells to her brother and return the undrunk wine," Evangeline surmised.

And then she was up off the beach blanket and racing through the shifting sands towards the house. Her tired muscles protested the movement after sparring with Erik for who knows how long. But adrenaline pushed her along.

She had made it up the stone steps and was halfway through the garden before Erik caught up to her and jerked her to a stop with a hand clasped tightly around her wrist.

"Let go!" she hissed as he stopped her momentum abruptly. Her shoulder smarted from the jerking motion, but she was too panicked to care.

"What the devil has gotten into you?" Erik seethed quietly between clenched teeth.

Evangeline tried to pull her wrist free from Erik's grip. "Let go, Erik. I have to stop her."

He looked pained as he stared down at her in confusion. "I thought you'd be happy… why are you running away from me?"

"You don't understand. This has nothing to do with you. Now let me go," she pleaded as she tried to tug her arm free once again.

"Not until you tell me what is happening. It's like I don't even know you, sometimes. I don't understand? Then make me," he complained as his grip on her wrist tightened almost painfully.

Evangeline stopped struggling against him knowing that it was useless. He was far too strong and there wasn't any time. She tried to think of a plausible lie to tell him. But the fear and anxiety that was coiled within her made it too difficult to think. She settled, instead, on the truth.

"My brother likes the company of men," she started. "Jonathan's company, to be precise. They are lovers. And his little sister, who is as oblivious and innocent as a newborn lamb, has just gone to the cellars where they last told me that they were headed," she finished quietly.

Erik stared down at her with a dumbfounded expression and said nothing.

"I have to stop her. Let me go, Erik," she ordered forcefully as she jerked against his hold.

Erik's grip on her arm slackened and Evangeline pulled her wrist free as she yanked the garden door open and disappeared into the dark house.

She only hoped that she wouldn't arrive too late.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

Erik watched as Evangeline disappeared into the dark, quiet house.

_A husband that has no need of a wife._ Her words came back to him more clearly now. She'd told him the truth, before, without really telling him anything at all.

The strange glances between the brother and the Baron. The way they constantly sought out each other's company. The Baron's distinct antipathy towards Evangeline's straying during their tentative betrothal. Her abrupt dropping of the hunt for a legal solution to her marriage woes.

_A husband that has no need of a wife._

Everything clicked into place with sudden, painful clarity.

He'd put Freddie's and the Barons familiarity with each other down to the result of a longstanding friendship. And hadn't the man been some sort of teacher at the boy's school? Erik found the stone garden bench and sank onto it, lost in thought. He'd heard of such proclivities, in an abstract way, but he'd never known such a man personally.

The Baron's sister didn't know, as he understood it. But Evangeline had not been surprised or horrified. In fact, she seemed to be protecting that secret rather fiercely. It certainly explained why she'd been so eager to keep Georgiana occupied with needlepoint and long walks.

Freddie was her brother, and her twin at that. Erik supposed that it made sense that she'd both know, and not care, and would do anything to help him. But would she go so far as to marry a man who would never want to touch her? She was not a woman who spurned romantic interest, even if she was difficult to ensnare like she claimed.

He looked at the empty doorway of the dark house.

But of course she would. She'd said just as much to him, hadn't she? Twice, in fact, if he recalled correctly. _A husband who has no need of a wife._

Erik decided that he didn't care either way, really. Freddie was a free man and he and the Baron were both adults who could make their own decisions. They seemed fond of each other. And who was Erik to judge them? He'd done far worse things in his lifetime than love someone regardless of their sex.

The Baron's complete and utter disregard for Evangeline's past and current transgressions made sense now. But… did that change things? Surely a man who could never hold affection for a woman would not begrudge another man for stepping in to ease that loneliness.

He stared at the open door to the dark house for quite some time until he decided that it was probably best just to go to bed. There was no screaming or wailing coming from inside the house. That meant that either Georgiana had changed her course or Evangeline had stopped her in time.

And Erik realized that they had a busy day tomorrow and he still needed to pack his things.

The garden was quiet and peaceful as Erik took one last look at the moonlit beach then rose from the bench and made his way inside as he shut the door softly behind him. 

* * *

The morning of their departure was a blur of near constant activity as maids and valets packed luggage and footmen loaded up the carriages. Evangeline's fearsome maid had been given her head to corral the entire effort. The result was an endless stream of French obscenities. The slip of a woman seemed to be enjoying herself immensely as she bossed the other servants around. But he had to hand it to her, she got a job done well when she put her mind to it. The three carriages were loaded up and then the maid was directing them all inside. Thankfully Erik was placed into the carriage with Evangeline and Freddie. The Baron and his sister took the second, and the servants who were coming with them made up the third. The maid looked a little put out at being shuffled into the third carriage with the other servants, but a quick whisper from Evangeline sent her off dutifully with just one strange look over her shoulder in his direction. Erik wondered what Evangeline had told the woman to warrant a look like that.

Erik settled onto the bench next to Freddie after helping Evangeline climb inside. And then they were rolling away from the seaside house and headed back to reality.

There were only four weeks left, now. How had the time passed so quickly?

"The cellar, really, Freddie?" Evangeline chastised her brother with a rude look once they gained speed on the empty roads.

Freddie stiffened next to Erik on the bench.

"Oh don't give me that look, he knows," she added scathingly. "I had to tell him last night."

"Eva," Freddie whispered warningly.

"It was either tell Erik or let Georgiana figure it out. Which would you have preferred?" she defended herself with narrowed eyes.

"What?" Freddie asked, alarmed.

"Georgiana slipped away from me. To go to the cellar, I might add. Probably to find out what was taking her brother so long to get a bottle or two of wine. She'd have found more than a wine bottle getting popped, I imagine."

Freddie crossed his arms and huffed, then slouched on the bench and sprawled his legs out into the carriage. "And how did she manage to slip away? Were you… distracted... perhaps?" he jabbed verbally.

Evangeline's eyes narrowed as she kicked Freddie's shin. Freddie yelped and withdrew his offending legs until he was sitting upright again.

"That's rather poor thanks for what I've gone through to keep that annoying little girl out of your hair these last few weeks. You're welcome for that, by the way. And don't you think I'd have rather been doing other things instead? But no, I did it for you, because I love you, you ungrateful little shit," she seethed.

Erik was rather impressed by the depth of fury in her glittering eyes and swore to himself that he'd never do anything to earn her anger like that. It was a fearsome sight to behold.

"I think you meant to say you'd rather have been doing _someone_ else," Freddie muttered quietly (digging his own grave deeper).

Apparently the boy had zero sense of self preservation. Erik was not surprised when Evangeline's rage slipped into a cold mask of indifference. This was the look that she retreated to when she was pissed off beyond all reasoning. If her previous expression had been awesome (in the same way that a lion hunting a gazelle inspire awe) then this one was downright terrifying.

Evangeline was completely silent and still as she stared at Freddie across the carriage. And the more that she was still and cold and calm, the more that he grew restless, fidgety, and agitated.

Freddie sat upright on the bench and folded his hands in his lap, suddenly serious. "You're right, of course. I've put you in an awful position. You've done more for me than I should have ever asked you to do. And I am grateful for it."

Evangeline stared at him with glittering eyes, then nodded and shifted her gaze so that she was looking out the window.

"You can return the favor," Evangeline said evenly, "by distracting mother."

Freddie groaned again and slid back into his slumped position position. Evangeline merely nudged his foot away from her before she returned to ignoring the both of them in favor of looking out the window at the passing scenery.

Erik considered saying something to break the tension of the carriage, but then thought better of it. He had no desire to be glared at by either one of them.

He settled on a sigh, instead. It was going to be a very long journey back.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

They'd been back home for two weeks already and Freddie was already at his wits end. It had been an unending stream of arrivals as the social elite arrived by carriage load after carriage load. Idly, he wondered where they'd put them all. But that was his mother's concern, he supposed. The musicale was to be held in just two more weeks time. And as the day loomed closer and closer, the tempers flared brighter and brighter.

Mother was particularly herself lately. And he was absolutely, bloody well exhausted from breaking up the fights between her and Eva. The two of them could hardly even be in the same room together for more than ten minutes time before their carefully worded barbs flew back and forth and one of them made an excuse to leave.

It was completely taxing to act as their buffer and go-between. And if he hadn't felt so bloody guilty over everything that had happened at the beach house then he'd have told Eva to shove off and deal with mother herself. But, as it was, he felt extraordinarily guilty, and so he acquiesced to her demands for interference. He was getting nearly everything that he wanted, and he supposed that it was the very least that he could do.

Currently he was waiting in the parlor and pouring himself a drink when the family and their immense amount of guests arrived for dinner in dribs and drabs. The sitting room was already half full with people who stood in clumps of two's and three's, lost in their own hushed conversations as they all waited for everyone to arrive in order to eat. Aunt Mabel was napping on her usual seat as always, and Erik was leaning nonchalantly against the far wall with his own drink clasped firmly in hand.

Freddie sloshed three fingers of good whiskey into his glass, then placed the stopper back into the crystal decanter.

"Pour me one too while you're at it," a familiar voice said from the doorway upon its entry.

Freddie turned to look over his shoulder, then returned to the bar cabinet and poured another glass.

"Hello, father," Freddie greeted as he set the decanter of whiskey back into place, then handed the now filled glass to his father as he took a sip of his own drink as well.

"Alfred," his father greeted him with a nod. "I trust that you haven't depleted my stores too much while we were away in London I hope," the man joked with a chuckle as he took a sip of his drink.

Freddie smirked lazily at him and tapped a finger against the glass. "Not at all," he protested in a bored voice. "Your stores are safe. The Baron of Lighton was good enough to host us for a time and save us from the endless boredom this summer."

"Hmm… Lighton? Which one of them is he?" his father said distractedly.

"Getting forgetful in your dotage, father? Come now, you've met him nearly half a dozen times since we've returned," Freddie answered blithely between sips.

Before his father could reply with some sharp retort, Jonathan and Georgiana joined them in the sitting room.

"Speak of the devil," Freddie murmured as he stepped up to the bar again to play at being a dutiful host. He poured a healthy serving of whiskey into another crystal tumbler and handed it to his lover, who accepted it with a cool nod and a lopsided, lazy grin. Georgiana stood stiffly to the side with an unreadable expression on her face and her hands buried in the folds of her skirts.

Jonathan's eyes slid from Freddie towards the old man. "Is my timing inopportune?" Jonathan asked in a curious, teasing voice. "I could go out and come back in again if that would please."

His mother chose to enter the parlor at that very moment, followed closely by Eva whose arm was linked politely (and held as far away from her torso as she could manage) with that dreadfully boring Earl what's-his-name.

"Alfred, be a dear and pour the Earl of Lancaster a drink," his mother ordered him stiffly.

Freddie turned in order to hide his rolling eyes as his mother stepped into the room to join his father while Freddie turned back towards the bar cart.

"What am I, then, a bartender?" he scoffed under his breath as he pulled the stopper from the whiskey decanter yet again.

"If you do not wish to be useful then do not stand by the bar," his mother whispered roughly before she turned about-face and cast a dazzling smile towards that boring Earl.

Freddie poured two fingers into a clean glass then stoppered the bottle and handed it to the man with a falsely cheerful smile. Two weeks. Freddie reminded himself that they only had to get through two more weeks.

"Ah! Yes… thank you… that is very kind of you," the Earl said graciously as he accepted the proffered drink and took a sip with his free hand.

"You are quite welcome," Freddie responded out of habit as his eyes slid from the Earl towards his sister who allowed her boredom to break through her mask for just a moment when no one was looking.

The Earl gestured around the room with his glass, its amber contents swirling dangerously, as the man gesticulated wildly. "I must say, you have a lovely home," the Earl directed his praise towards Freddie's parents.

Freddie's mother seemed pleased by this bland compliment and nodded her head regally as she took up her husband's arm. "You are most kind, my lord."

"Baron Lighton, have you been introduced yet to the Earl of Lancaster?" Eva inquired, stealing everyone's attention as she dropped the Earl's arm and gestured between the man and Jonathan. "No? Than please allow me to make the introductions, I would be honored," she said with false politeness.

Jonathan stepped forward and accepted the man's offered hand as both gentlemen shook, murmured polite greetings, then stepped back to take sips from their respective drinks in an awkward, growing silence.

"And this is his lovely little sister lady Georgiana," Eva continued as she stepped towards the awkward, stiff girl and took up her limp arm until they stood side by side.

Freddie watched the entire exchange with a hidden intense curiosity that was masked by an outwardly bored stare. What new game was this?

Eva smiled dazzlingly as Georgiana attempted a curtsy, only to be thwarted by Eva's grasp on her. The end result was a clumsy dip and sway as Eva relaxed languidly into the poor girl's side.

"It is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance, lady Georgiana," the Earl murmured with a kind smile.

"Georgiana has become a fast friend of mine, even though we have only just been recently introduced this summer. Our brothers have long since been dear old friends, they met at Cambridge you see, so it seemed like fate that we should meet this summer and take an instant liking to one another. Truthfully, I have never met someone so sweet and charming as she," Eva said in voice that dripped like honey. Georgiana merely blushed delicately at the excessive praise. But Freddie noted the way that the Earl's eyes kept straying from Georgiana to Eva.

They were saved from the Earl's no doubt bland, polite reply as three boisterous young men joined them in the sitting room. It was none other than Hunter Blacket himself, flanked by two of his cronies. Freddie narrowed his eyes at the rake and wondered when that pirana had joined them for the summer. Surely mother hadn't been uncouth enough to invite the likes of Blackheart to the musicale. She knew of the man's wicked reputation, did she not?

Freddie looked towards his sister in time to see Eva's bland mask falter for just one brief moment. He saw her look of smug satisfaction, and then his attention slid sideways to Georgiana's horrified, pale complexion as the girl gasped loudly.

He had just enough warning to cry out a noise of alarm as Jonathan's little sister swooned forwards on her feet. Freddie saw Eva shoulder the girl forward just before his sister gave out her own cry of surprise. And then the Earl of Lancaster's drink tumbled to the ground and spilled its contents onto the carpet as the man dashed forward to catch the fainting maiden.

The entire room turned about face to watch the scandalous scene that was unfolding before them as Eva lifted a hand to her mouth and played the part of the concerned friend well as she gasped loudly in turn.

"Quickly, now! Set her on the sofa," Eva ordered.

The Earl swept the limp young woman into his arms dutifully, as requested, and carried her over towards the nearest empty sofa before setting her down gently with her head propped on a needle pointed pillow.

"Lady Georgiana?" the Earl inquired softly as the man released the girl's unconscious form and kneeled above her worriedly.

"Give the poor girl some room to breathe," Eva ordered vaguely towards the other occupants of the room as she waved everyone else away and stepped back as well to leave only the Earl hovering over the sofa.

Freddie looked up and tried to hide his expression of shocked amusement as he looked about the room. While the Earl was busy worrying over the swooning girl's prostrate form, he took the time to survey everyone else. He saw the very real look of wary surprise on Blackheart's face, the bemusement on Erik's, the brotherly concern on Jonathan's, the bafflement on his father's face… but then worst of all he saw the cold, glittering, look of barely concealed rage on his mother's face.

But as soon as he'd recognized it, the look slid away until her face, too, was another mask of false concern as her eyes slid from Eva to the couch with Georgiana.

Freddie looked back towards Eva, who had taken advantage of everyone's distraction to inch away from the scene until she was standing between him and Jonathan. He turned and placed a comforting hand on Jonathan's shoulder. Jonathan's attention snapped towards Eva as she squeezed his shoulder and looked properly worried.

The Earl was grasping Georgiana's limp hand and calling out her name softly. And then the girl stirred on the sofa and her eyes fluttered slowly open.

Freddie spared a sideways glance towards his sister as the cogs in his brain churned and he tried to puzzle out this new game of hers.

Eva turned towards him and the corner of her mouth tipped up, nearly imperceptibly, as she grinned at him slyly in return.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Author's Note:** Unedited chapters are available on A O X3 under the same title.

* * *

Evangeline forced herself (with every ounce of willpower that she possessed) not to gloat as Georgiana's eyes fluttered open delicately and latched onto the gentleman who was kneeling on the floor beside her. The Earl of Lancaster might be dreadfully boring, but he was handsome enough and kind and gentle and Evangeline had decided two weeks ago that it would be a simple enough thing to make the two of them fall madly in love with one another.

She was only a full week into her plans, and with two weeks left to manage it all, but now that the girl had literally swooned into the dashing rescuers arms it should prove easy enough. It had been dreadfully difficult to get the man to notice the girl at first (wallflower that she was) especially when mother was thrusting the Earl onto herself at every waking moment. They had walked together, and talked together, and ridden together at her mother's insistence. The woman's machinations couldn't be anymore clear. Mother wanted Evangeline to set her sights on the Earl.

Evangeline, however, had other plans.

She set her hand on Jonathan's shoulder and squeezed. His attentions turned away from Georgiana and he seemed to relax when he saw that she was not nearly as worried as she was pretending.

Freddie, as usual, was looking about the room, two steps behind her plans as he tried to figure it all out. She saw the moment that he pieced it together when he turned towards her and cast her a look that said _really, Eva?_

Evangeline merely grinned at him as much as she was able with all of these people in the room, a tiny tip up of the corner of her mouth, and then her eyes slid over towards the infamous Hunter 'Blackheart' Blackett. Oh yes, she had plans for them all, indeed. It would be a busy two weeks, but she was up for the challenge. All of her unfulfilled passions would be channelled into this scheme. Erik had been kept from her for far too long now, and she was absolutely sick of it. It was far past time for Freddie to keep his promise to her.

Her eyes found Erik next and her insides clenched as his piercing amber gaze bore into hers from across the room. He looked coolly detached from the scene in the room as he lounged against the far wall, but Evangeline saw the thrum of carefully hidden bemusement even from that distance. He never seemed two steps behind her. If anything Evangeline was left to wonder if he knew her plans as soon as she did. His mind was sharp and clever and it made him all the more enticing to her.

She hadn't told any of them about her plan for Georgiana and the Earl and for good reason. It was in its infancy and a careless word now would muck it all up and then she'd have even less time to come up with another work around. There was no one else here who suited Georgiana's needs so well. The Earl was older than the girl by much and not totally past his prime. His middle was soft but he was good humored if just a little boring. As a widower he was completely respectable. And with him being an Earl there were not many who would go against him. He was the perfect shield for a tarnished girl who didn't mind boring conversation or Summers spent idling away in the country.

Her eyes roamed the room carefully and found her mother next. Beneath the mask of propriety that her mother wore near constantly Evangeline saw the cold, dead eyes of a shark that had tasted fresh blood in the water. Evangeline squashed the flare of fear that bloomed to life inside of her at the too familiar and unsettling sight.

But there was nothing to do for it now except continue on as planned.

She'd been exceptionally careful in her manipulations all week and it had gained her nothing compared to this one small, rash act. Evangeline convinced herself that her mother's attention was a necessary risk when compared to the potential return investment. Evangeline's eyes slid back towards the fluttering, waking Georgiana and the concerned Earl who kneeled over her and looked downward with true sympathy and worry etched onto his still-somewhat handsome face.

Oh yes, this risk had played out even better than she'd hoped. The two of them together looked looked like a painting right out of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Or perhaps the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty would be more apt?

Once Georgiana had recovered enough to sit up Evangeline abandoned Freddie and Jonathan in order to rush over sympathetically to her friend's side. Evangeline helped the poor, embarrassed chit sit up and then was wildly pleased beyond all hope when the Earl insisted on escorting the girl to dinner that evening. He explained that he wanted to ensure that she really was alright.

Evangeline consented to give up her escort to the girl, and took up Jonathan's proffered elbow in turn. She watched in hidden delight as her mother pulled a servant aside to whisper the changes to the seating arrangement into the woman's ears.

It was challenging to keep the grin from her face, but Evangeline managed it when her mother's attentions returned to her.

"I hope that my sister is not feeling unwell," Jonathan said hesitantly after clearing his throat. It was his nervous habit.

"I think that she will be feeling right as rain soon enough," Evangeline side stepped vaguely as she glanced at the retreating pair before them.

Georgiana was tucked neatly into the Earl's side as the man tipped his head down towards the girl in polite, hushed conversation. A blush still stained the girl's delicate porcelain cheeks as she stared up at the tall, handsome man who had so gallantly rescued her just a moment ago.

Hunter Blackett and his friends shuffled near silently into the dining hall (their normal boisterousness snuffed out a little from the awkward scene) and Evangeline stifled her grin as they took their designated seats at the table.

Evangeline patted Jonathan's arm as a servant stepped forward (now that the room was nearly empty) to sweep up the fallen glass and mop up the whiskey that was setting its stain into the Persian rug.

Freddie looked back at her questioningly over his shoulder as he and Erik left the emptying room to take up their newly shifted seats at the table.

"Indeed, I think that she'll be more than fine, now," Evangeline comforted her secret fiancé with a pat on the arm as they made to join the receding crowd into the dining room.

Jonathan said nothing as he held her seat out for her and assisted her into her chair. He pushed the chair against the backs of her thighs smoothly as she adjusted her skirts and sat primly. She looked up from her place as he joined her on her left. They were opposite from Georgiana and the Earl now, and Freddie was on her right. Erik had been shifted further down the table. It irritated her that she could not even see him in her periphery now without straining and calling undue attention to herself. But if there was one thing that Evangeline could manage when it seemed impossible, it was patience as her plans came to fruition.

Hunter Blacket glanced nervously about the room and Evangeline caught his gaze for just a moment before she forced herself to look away with just the ghost of a smile and the promise of things to come on her lips.

Oh yes, she could be patient. What was two weeks to her, anyways?

A nasty voice welled up inside of her and sneered at her satisfaction. _Erik's leaving in two weeks, you fool._

Evangeline slipped her carefully constructed mask back into place as she retreated emotionally from the conversation that welled around her in favor of her inner thoughts.

Perhaps he would stay? Even if it was not forever… even if it was just for a little while. _He won't. You aren't worth staying for._

Perhaps they could honeymoon in Venice, then, as Freddie had suggested weeks ago. It was the most plausible solution, really. _Desperate now, aren't you?_

Evangeline took a sip from her now full wine glass to hide her distraction as a maid filled her bowl with soup. She shoved her worries aside as she took a dainty sip. It wouldn't do to get caught unawares now. Not when things were finally going as planned.

* * *

After dinner Evangeline hadn't protested when her mother insisted that she stay behind with Georgiana and the few other ladies that were in residence. While the musicale had been planned with the intention of pulling all of London's most eligible (meaning desperate) bachelors into one place for easy pickings there were others in attendance too. Even her mother could not afford to snub some of the most elite of society. And few dared ignore the invitation of an Earl even with the scandal from a few season's passed. So a few of the girls that had once been Evangeline's friends before they'd abandoned her had been invited too.

The ladies retired to the pleasures of the estate's immense garden while the gentlemen retired to her father's study for whiskey and cigars. It was all a big excuse for both sexes to gossip, really, although the gentlemen would claim otherwise if the issue was pressed.

Evangeline latched onto Georgiana's arm and began to talk quite loudly about the garden's most recent additions in the rose section until they were finally distanced enough from the other women.

"Are you alright?" Evangeline probed quietly as she squeezed Georgiana's arm affectionately.

Georgiana looked embarrassed as she glanced about to ensure that no one would hear their conversation.

"My pride is hurt more than anything else," the girl confessed. "I did not… I did not expect to see _him_ here," she said with a dramatic shudder.

"You must not let him know that he affects you so," Evangeline chided gently. She knew that her words would have the opposite effect, however. And the more upset that the girl got, the more that the Earl could comfort and reassure her. Georgiana was not capable of masking anything about herself. She was an open book, and completely guileless. And that was exactly why the girl could not be brought into her confidence, or allowed to remain in Jonathan's household. Well intentioned or not, the girl would ruin everything eventually with a misplaced word in the wrong company.

"I can not help it" Georgiana cried out a little too loudly.

Evangeline's eyes swept the garden, but she was satisfied that no one else had noticed them. With her arm linked tightly in Georgiana's she pulled the girl further into the quiet of the lamp lit garden until they found the wisteria covered gazebo. Together, the two of them climbed up its short steps and sat down upon one of its built in benches.

"I was not prepared to face Hunter so soon. It is bad enough to hear those vicious women gossip about me when they know that I can hear them. But it was simply too much to see him again so suddenly."

"I know that it is difficult," Evangeline began as Georgiana looked up at her with glassy, tear-filled eyes. "I remember what it is like. To see them staring, to hear them whispering, to know the cruel little lies that they are spreading. But you have friends here, Georgiana, friends who will not abandon you. And those vicious creatures who came here to watch the show will not always have the false courage to dare to cross a Baron for the favor of a handful of Baronets with reputations for being cruel little boys," Evangeline bolstered the girl's confidence.

Georgiana looked up at her with damp eyes and a watery smile.

"Besides, I think that you may have found your champion tonight. The Earl of Lancaster is a handsome man, is he not? He rescued you quite gallantly, too, as you fainted into his arms so romantically," Evangeline added with an impish grin until her cheek dimpled charmingly.

Georgiana blushed delicately and looked away, flustered. "I don't… do you think… but he wouldn't… not with the likes of me," the girl protested weakly.

"And why not you? You are beautiful, and young, and sweet. And your soul is pure, unlike those other catty girls," Evangeline answered.

"But… my reputation…" Georgiana faltered as she wrung her hands in her lap.

Evangeline let herself sigh softly, which caused Georgiana to look up at her in confusion.

"Georgiana, darling, the Earl was invited here as a potential suitor of mine. Surely if he is willing to overlook my own supposed indiscretions, then he can not begrudge you for a simple kiss," she explained.

Evangeline watched the look of confusion shift to hope, then back to dread as the girl practically collapsed in on herself. What reaction was this, now?

"Unless he does not suit you?" Evangeline probed, fully curious and just a little alarmed.

Georgiana blushed even more until her face was as pink as her gown. "That is not what… I do not… I think he's very handsome," the girl admitted frankly.

"What is the matter, then?" Evangeline asked in earnest confusion.

"Do you not… want him for yourself?" Georgiana stammered. "It's just… you spend so much time with him. I thought that maybe… Because I have seen the way that he looks at you. I think that he has set his sights on you already."

Evangeline stared at the girl in shock until she laughed before she could stop yourself. Georgiana deflated even further until Evangeline could rein in her emotions and regain control of the conversation once again.

"I'm sorry, Georgie, you just surprised me. I did not mean to laugh at you, that was unkind… But I thought… I thought that you knew, already, you see. I thought for sure that Jonathan had told you, or else I would have said something earlier," Evangeline replied.

Georgiana stared up at her in wary confusion as if she was beginning to question things that she should not be questioning.

Evangeline leaned towards the girl and dropped her voice. "Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered for dramatic effect.

Georgiana nodded quietly and leaned forward too.

"Your brother has already proposed to me, and I have accepted his offer. In two weeks, after the musicale, we will announce our engagement, and then we will be married by Christmas. And I would like it very much if you would call me sister once the betrothal is official. So I really won't be upset at all if you tell me that the Earl of Lancaster is the most handsome, chivalrous man that you've ever seen, and that you'd enjoy being courted by him."

The girl leaned back with a happy gasp and reached out to grab at Evangeline's hands and squeeze. "I would like that very much."

Evangeline wasn't sure which part the girl was agreeing to. She merely smiled at the girl and nodded. "Good."

* * *

Three hours later when the house was dark and quiet and the majority of the guests had long since retired to bed Evangeline slipped out of her room with the pretense of returning a book to the library.

She'd just climbed the spiral staircase that led to the second and then the third floor of the library when the shadows moved within one of the floor's book filled alcoves.

"I thought that you weren't coming," Erik's voice said softly from the dark. "I was just about to leave."

Evangeline cast one last furtive glance about the empty, near dark library as she set her book down on the nearest shelf and slipped into the shadows with him.

"There are a lot of people underfoot, here. It's near impossible for me to slip away," she replied evenly.

"Not distracted by your Earl?" he retorted with just a little venom in his voice.

She reared back from him as if he'd slapped her and glared at him in the dark until her eyes adjusted and she made out the soft outline of his white mask and amber eyes. "He's not my anything," she protested. "And don't be jealous, it really doesn't suit you."

Erik's jaw clenched in his tell-tale sign of irritation as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him. Evangeline relaxed into his grip and melted against him. Fighting him would only make him think that he was right.

"I see the way that he looks at you when you're distracted. That's one of the benefits of being me, my dear. I slip into the shadows, forgotten, and from there I can see others for who they really are."

Evangeline rolled her eyes, set her free hand on her hip, and huffed at him and his flare for the dramatics. "And what am I, right now? What do you see, in the dark, with those cats eyes of yours?" she asked hotly.

Erik stared down at her as if he was searching for something in her eyes or face or body language. Evangeline held still and glowered at him as he drank his fill until he appeared satisfied with whatever conclusion he'd come to. He stepped forward, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, as he pushed her back flush against the bookcase even as he towered over her and pressed his long, lean frame against her.

His head tipped down until his lips were by her ear. "You are truly vexing," he said breathily as he pressed his lips against the soft spot of her neck underneath her ear in a gentle kiss.

Her general dissatisfaction at this entire situation, and her specific outrage over his suspicions of her were forgotten as his warm breath tickled the hairs at her neck and the familiar scent of his cologne filled her nose.

"You are not the only one who is frustrated," she said just as breathily as his nose and the edge of his leather mask brushed against her neck and sent a thrill down her spine that had her arching her back until her front pressed against him in turn.

When he raised her arm above her head and pinned her to the wall behind her she sighed softly. And then his knee slid between her legs and his hands were fumbling with her skirts as his mouth found hers and his lips pressed against hers in a searing kiss.

Erik's hand found purchase underneath her layers and his fingers were rubbing lazy circles on the outsides of her thighs before she knew it. He was getting rather good at that.

His mouth released hers and she made a sound of protest until his lips returned back to her neck.

"Was a Baron not titled enough? Have you upgraded for an Earl, instead? I'm told that there are so few of them in this country," he whispered against the soft skin of her neck as his thigh found the ache between her legs and pressed and his fingers slipped around the tease the juncture of her thigh and backside.

Evangeline raised an arm to wrap around his neck for stability as he pressed his leg into her aching core. A book dug into her back, but she was beyond caring about her comfort now that he was finally touching her where she ached for him most. Her fingers had not been enough for her, lately. Each time she touched herself it merely left her wanting more after she was done.

"Don't be an ass," she chided him as she dug her fingernails into his shoulder to punctuate her point.

Erik merely ground his thigh against her center harder in reply as Evangeline tensed and flexed her hips against him, curious. This was new. She writhed against him again and felt her undergarments shift and then her damp core was pressed against the clothed flesh of his thigh for real, now. She ground her hips against him again, to test the sensation, and found it pleasant.

"I see the way that he's been looking at you these past two weeks," Erik reiterated, unwavering. And his free hand had released her skirts and was wandering teasingly over her hip and stomach and the swell of her breasts now.

"I have no control over who looks at me or how they look at me," she denied as Erik's fingers tried to find a way into the many layers of her bodice until he gave up. "And besides, he's meant for Georgiana," she added as she found a way to writhe against his leg until the beginnings of a delicious tension began to build within her.

Erik grunted as his leg slid back and she lost the resistance that she needed for her slowly building pleasure. He replaced his leg with his fingers a fraction later and she nearly jumped when he found the slit in her drawers and his finger brushed against her damp curls.

"My, you're full of plots," he murmured against her neck. "How Machiavellian of you. I suppose that you somehow arrange that little fainting spell of hers, as well?" he goaded as his fingers brushed ever so faintly against her damp curls without really touching her.

Evangeline tried to buck her hips forward to force him to touch her, but he pressed her into the bookshelf even harder and tutted at her even as she cast a withering glare at him in response.

"The fainting was all her. She truly was amazing, wasn't she? I couldn't have planned it better if I'd tried. No, I simply knew that she'd react rather… forcefully if she were confronted with the man that started all of this for her," Evangeline admitted. It had been a bold assumption, but it had paid off and she brushed the niggling feeling of guilt aside. Georgiana would certainly not complain about having her trust so ill abused once she was a Countess.

Erik looked at her sharply for a moment and then Evangeline moaned when his finger pressed forward and brushed against her before it traveled down further and further again until it finally entered her.

"You brought that boy here," he guessed as his finger penetrated her.

"Blackheart?" Evangeline moaned, a little distracted as another of Erik's fingers joined the first inside of her and his palm flattened against her and rubbed her. Her hips bucked of their own accord and she bit her lip to stifle her moans as she started to ride his hand. Why was her own hand so wanting, and his hand so bloody amazing? It wasn't fair.

"Yes," she continued as he rubbed rough circles around her sensitive places with his palm as his fingers stroked in and out of her in a lazy rhythm. "I wrote to him and brought him here in secret, because she and the Earl were both being absolutely daft. I've been trying to pair the two of them together for a fortnight now. But they both needed a good shove in the right direction," Evangeline snorted as she recalled that she had literally had to shove the fainting girl into the Earl's path in order to get the stupid man to notice the girl.

Erik's fingers hooked inside of her and pressed against something that caused the building sensations to double and intensify.

"So you're a matchmaker, now?" he teased as his fingers flicked again.

Evangeline threw her head back into the books, heedless of the way they dug into the back of her head, and moaned as he worked her towards that familiar precipice.

"Some men need damsels to rescue… some damsels need rescuing… Besides, I needed her out of my way. And the Earl will be far kinder to her than most," she reasoned.

He leaned down and chuckled into her ear as the pace of his fingers and the pressure of his palm increased. "What would they say if they saw you here, like this, with my fingers buried deep inside you. Fingered against a bookcase like a common servant skulking off into shadows with her forbidden lover," he whispered into her ear.

"Lucky girl?" she quipped. Erik's palm brushed against her and Evangeline screwed her eyes shut as her hips bucked against his fingers and her grip around his neck tightened.

"Don't stop," she begged him.

"What do you want, Eva?" he asked as his fingers pumped in and out of her with a steady pace and his palm brushed against her clit with each stroke.

All thought fled from her mind until she could only think of them, together, like this. Desperate, intense need filled her until there was nothing left but the desire for release.

"I want to orgasm," she whispered back breathily. "Please," she moaned.

Erik paused his relentless pace to reach down and grab her leg and hook it around his hip. He pressed against her and suddenly she could feel the hard length of his erection against her inner thigh as he rocked his hips forward into hers. Even through their layers of clothing she could feel him stiff and wanting.

Her eyes flew open and his gaze found hers as he stared down at her in a silent question. The grip that held her arm above her head relaxed a fraction.

Evangeline paused, the fog of pleasure receding so that she could think again now that his fingers were no longer torturing her.

"Erik," she said tentatively as she reached down to gently cup the unmasked portion of his face as he pressed her into the bookcase. "I don't want the first time that we're finally together to be like this… standing up against a bookcase in the library," she told him.

He made to move away from her until the arm that was wrapped around his neck tightened and trapped him in place. She licked her lips as she tried to figure out her phrasing.

"I'm not saying no. I want you, more than anything. I want all of you," she said.

Erik was silent for a moment as his jaw clenched and unclenched again and again. "I… am not a patient man by nature," he bit out finally.

She nodded, completely understanding the sentiment and need. The hand that was cupping his face drifted down his neck and stomach until her fingers fidgeted with the buttons of his pants. It took her a moment to figure out how to undo them one handedly.

"I have been selfish, I'll admit. It's in my nature. But I am not unreasonable and there are other things that we can enjoy. And then later I will make it up to you, I promise," she whispered as her fingers got the last button of his trousers free and then she was reaching into them and grasping him.

He was hard and soft all at once and she marveled at the way that he felt under her fingers as she explored him. His eyes slid closed and he sighed as her thumb brushed across the gathering bead of fluid. She grabbed him firmly by the base and gave a tentative stroke, and was rewarded with his breathy moan as she pulled him free from his trousers and began to explore him in earnest.

Her own pleasure forgotten for a moment Evangeline focused everything on his guttural responses as she palmed and stroked and teased and toyed him. She gripped his thick, hard length tightly and stroked him quickly until he wavered on his feet.

And then in a pantomime of what he'd done to her earlier she unwrapped her other arm from around his neck and pushed against his chest until they'd crossed the alcove and he was pressed against the opposite bookcase.

But instead of pressing herself against him like he had done to her, she sank to her knees instead and enjoyed the confusion on his face as he stared down at her. If he could press his mouth against her sex then she reasoned that she could do the same to him.

She enjoyed the way his eyes rolled back into his head as her lips parted just enough to allow the tip of him into her mouth. His head pressed back into the bookcase when her tongue flicked his tip. And his thighs quivered when she leaned on them for support as she slid her mouth and tongue down as far as she could go, just to rise back up and do it all over again. He moaned when she let one hand drift over to grab him by his base and stroke as her tongue teased his dripping slit and explored him. She wrapped her lips around him and bobbed her head.

When Erik's hips began to sway and thrust with the movements she repositioned her legs beneath her. And she was dripping now as well. His groans, and grunts, and moans, and thrusting hips had turned her into a wanton creature as she kneeled before him and let him take her softly parted mouth.

Evangeline stared up at him and fisted her hand around his base to keep him from gagging her as he lost all semblance of self control. He met her eyes briefly before he threw his head back against the bookcase again, nearly knocking a few books loose in the process, as his hips jutted and jerked and he pushed deeper into her mouth. She squeezed the base of him tighter and began to tongue his tip as he continued thrusting into her.

And then he groaned and his thrusting stuttered into six, slow strokes and she felt the rush of warm fluid in her mouth as he found his pleasure and burst against her tongue. She swallowed the strange, salty fluid down and enjoyed the way that he shuddered against her as he gently withdrew himself from her mouth.

She let go of him as he focused on tucking himself away, and then she wobbled dangerously as she tried to stand on half-numb feet.

Erik buttoned up the last button of his trousers and hauled her up easily as she swayed against him. Her feet had gone asleep without her knowing it because she'd been so absorbed. She chuckled and was about to tell him just as much until his lips crashed down on hers in a passionate, claiming kiss. His hands cupped her face gently as his tongue forced her lips to part. She let him in and clung to him as he kissed her breathless and licked her mouth clean of his taste.

He crowded into her and backed her up into the opposite bookcase. Her skirts were hiked up and his fingers were searching for her through the slit in her drawers again before she could even squeak out a note of surprise. When his probing fingers found her dripping and throbbing she nearly cried out in need.

Erik chuckled and leaned his mouth against her ear. "You seem to have enjoyed yourself," he murmured darkly. His warm breath tickled the hairs on her neck and she sighed and threw her head back in pleasure when his fingers brushed against her through her slick folds.

"I enjoyed it immensely," she agreed with a smile and she was rewarded when his fingers circled her clit and dragged a moan out of her in response.

"You more than just enjoyed it. You are dripping wet. Oh my, even your thighs are slick with it. You've made quite the mess of yourself. Tell me, Eva, does it bother you to be such a wanton little thing?" he asked softly as his fingers slid over her again and then pressed against her entrance.

She blushed at his bawdy words. But there was only heat in his voice, no debasement or cruelty.

"Not at all," she whispered. And his fingers pressed into her as her reward as he pinned her against the bookcase and invaded her body completely.

"You always manage to surprise me, darling. Although I really shouldn't be. I recall all of your teasing. I should have known, then, that this was what you really wanted," he said as his fingers hooked inside of her and brushed that center of nerves that always made her toes curl.

Evangeline gasped lightly as he pressed and rubbed against it with two hooked fingers as a familiar pressure began to build inside of her. Her earlier pleasure had not faded completely. She still needed him to find her release.

"Tell me, Eva, do you touch yourself? When you lie in bed at night, do you let your fingers wander down your sweet body and pleasure yourself?"

"Yes," she admitted. "And I think of you when I do it," she whispered.

His fingers paused mid stroke, and then the angle of his hand changed so that his thumb was brushing against her as his fingers pumped in and out of her slowly.

"What a good little tart, pleasuring yourself while you think of me. What kind of things do you think about?" he asked her.

Embarrassment and shame at saying such things aloud herself brought a flush to her face as Erik's fingers stilled against her as the silence between them grew.

"I'm waiting… and so will you," he promised softly as his fingers withdrew completely and he placed a flat palm against her throbbing sex.

"I… I think of that night in the parlor," she admitted softly. Evangeline nearly whimpered when his thumb brushed her clit as his hand moved back into position.

"When I set my mouth against you and tasted you?" he probed. And a finger positioned itself patiently at her entrance.

"Yes… but more than that," she answered vaguely and she could have sighed in relief when he slipped a finger back inside. She tried to thrust her hips against that finger but he merely tutteted at her to be still and then threatened to withdraw completely and leave her there unfulfilled if she did such a thing again.

"You refer to when the maid interrupted," he added patiently.

Evangeline nodded, then realized that he couldn't see such a movement with his head buried in her neck. "Yes," she whispered, and was rewarded when a second digit joined the first. Her body ached to move, to move against those fingers and find release. But she was terrified to disobey his order. He was not a man who made empty threats. If he said that he'd stop and send her back to her room sans orgasm like a wilful child being sent upstairs without supper then she believed him. He'd effectively chained her up as if he'd locked her in actual shackles. His fingers were merely there inside of her… not moving… stagnant… and completely frustrating her. Suddenly she knew exactly what he wanted from her. Evangeline swallowed thickly and held completely still. The burning need for release finally overrode her embarrassment.

"I wanted her to catch us… I wanted her to see your mouth on me," she whispered.

Erik's fingers curled inside of her again and began to thrust and this time she did cry out in relief as the familiar pressure began to build again.

"You are a shameful little harlot for wanting the maid to watch us when I had my tongue up your skirts" he moaned against her as she panted against the bookcase.

"Please," she moaned against him as his fingers began a blinding pace. Her arousal smeared onto her thighs as his hand worked her furiously and her pleasure began to build at a steady place.

"I'm so close," she begged him.

"You will not find your release until I have given you permission," he ordered her roughly as his teeth nipped her earlobe and his fingers altered their rhythm against her. "Never. Do you understand me, my little harlot? The only orgasms that you may have are the ones that you beg me for and even then you must ask me prettily first."

She nodded, forgetful that he couldn't see her in her haze of lust as his fingers slid in and out of her wet heat. Her grip on his neck tightened as she scrunched her eyes shut tight and tried to remember how to breathe.

"Do you understand me?" he repeated in a gravelly voice.

"Yes," she moaned.

"Yes… what?" he demanded coarsely.

"Yes, maestro," she replied breathily. And then before she knew what he was doing his fingers had withdrawn from her and she was crying out at the sudden, disappointing absence. Her building orgasm stuttered and faded again as Erik unlaced her arm from around his neck, grabbed her hips, and turned her about face abruptly.

Evangeline reached forward and steadied herself against the bookcase of their little hidden alcove as the layers of her dress were thrown up around her shoulders. He grabbed her hips and pushed and pulled her into position, and for a moment her stomach fluttered wildly and she wondered if he was going to ignore her wishes and sink himself into her anyways. More startling than that, the thought that he might take here here right now regardless of what she'd said earlier, was exciting. She was confused that she didn't even really care. He'd built her orgasm up to such a frenzy now that she would desperately agree to just about anything he said in order to be allowed to orgasm. The usual panic that should probably accompany the thought of being under someone's control so completely was deafening in its absence.

"Evangeline," he said softly, starting her as the cool library air wafted up the slit of her drawers.

Why did she always end up being the one so completely exposed around him?

"Yes?" she answered hesitantly as she gripped the shelf of the bookcase before her for support.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered softly as his fingers teased her thighs and backside through her drawers.

She was quiet for a few seconds as she considered it. She had snuck off into the dark, empty library to meet him after midnight while everyone else in the house was asleep. No one knew where she was, not even Celeste. And he was so much stronger than her. If he decided to press the issue and take her then there, then was really not much that she could do to stop him. And she was not very motivated to stop him either at this point. He could cover her mouth and stop her from screaming as he took her there on the library floor or up against a bookcase.

But none of this was what startled her. What surprised her, instead, was that she did trust him.

The flutterings of her earlier misgivings at being turned about and exposed weren't fear… they were excitement. She added it to the list of things to be ashamed about alongside being licked and sucked on in front of maids. And she idly wondered what else would be added to that slowly growing list as Erik brought things out of her that she'd never known were hidden in the first place.

"Yes, maestro," she answered finally.

And when his hand came down and slapped her butt she managed not to yelp too loudly as the sting and jostling of nearby flesh made her throb in pleasure alongside the bloom of startling pain.

"If you tell me to stop then I will," he told her with an even voice as his hand rubbed the cheek that he'd just slapped. "Understood?"

Evangeline looked over her shoulder at him and caught his gaze as she stared back at him. She blinked and nodded wordlessly, then swallowed as his fingers grabbed her drawers and tugged them down roughly from underneath the constraints of her corset. His fingers reached around to untie the string that kept the two halves together, and then he slid them down her legs until they puddled on the floor. He grabbed one hand and pulled it behind her back. The hemline of her skirts was thrust into her hand. And then Evangeline stood there, bent forward with her face pressed into a row of books and her skirts rucked up around her waist. The air of the library was cool against her stinging buttcheek and swollen sex.

She blushed furiously as she watched him over her shoulder as he eyed her backside and quim shamelessly. And then she closed her eyes when his hand brushed her bare bottom for the first time.

"You will hold your skirts up above your waist as you face the bookcase," he ordered her.

Evangeline did as he told her to. She tightened her hold and kept her skirts up around her waist with one hand as she braced her other against the bookcase for support. Erik's foot kicked her feet slightly wider and then a hand on her back pushed her shoulders forward as his other hand tugged her hips backwards until her back was arched more completely. The position itself was humiliating enough. Because her bare ass and pussy were now completely on display for him. And Erik's hand was quickly back to stroking her backside and thighs as she stood before him, half-naked, completely exposed, and thoroughly aroused.

"One day I will take you like this," he told her as he brushed a single finger through her gathered dew.

"Promises, promises," she quipped in a melodic voice as she tried to suppress a shudder while he teased her slick folds.

His hand landed heavily and clapped her on her other ass cheek as he slid a finger lazily against her swollen bits.

"No sense of self preservation, I see," he tutted as he teased her entrance and withdrew his hand when her hips twitched in response.

"I thought I told you not to move," he added thoughtfully.

"I guess I'm not a very good listener, maestro," she taunted him and bit her lip when his finger withdrew and he slapped her other cheek a little harder. Her sex twitched in response, and more moisture gathered between her legs.

Erik seemed to notice, because his fingers were back at the juncture of her thighs again.

"Or maybe you're just enjoying this more than you'd like to admit. If you wanted me to spank you like the wayward brat you are, then you only had to ask, my dear," he told her as his hand did just that and came down on her backside again.

The force of this blow jostled her forward into the bookcase a little, and as the sting faded away a dull warmth took its place. His second blow came down exactly where the last one had and the pain against her now tender flesh made her actually wince this time.

But Evangeline was stubborn and she loved a game. The need to win at all costs was in her nature.

"Thank you, sir, may I have another?" she goaded him.

Erik chuckled behind her and gave her five more blows to the same cheek until she cried out softly from the stinging pain. But then his fingers were searching through her slick, swollen folds and he was drawing lazy circles until she was gasping from the pleasure as much as she was from the pain.

"Stubborn thing. I can see that you do _not_ have a sense of self preservation. So I will tell you the rules and you will tell me if you agree to them," he told her.

Evangeline nodded mutely as his fingers teased her and smeared her arousal onto her inner thighs.

"You will receive twenty blows before you may find release. You will _not_ orgasm before the twenty blows are done. You must count off each one, and if you miss one or lose count then we will start over from the beginning. Understood?" he asserted as his hand palmed her ass and squeezed.

"Yes sir," she answered him obediently.

And then his hand came down sharply on her bottom.

"One," she called out as he squeezed the cheek that he'd just spanked. The sting subsided, and then he landed another one on a different spot of the same cheek. "Two."

Evangeline shifted her position against the bookcase, and then his hand came down in three rapid slaps on her other side. "Three, four, five," she said and he chuckled as he rubbed her stinging flesh.

Evangeline counted off each blow and wondered how long it would take him to get to twenty.

He seemed to enjoy alternating between slapping and rubbing and pinching her rapidly pinkening rear. When he started to drag a fingernail over the now sensitive skin her hips writhed in response as pleasure coiled in her belly and she throbbed at the interesting mix of sensations.

"Do _not_ move again," he ordered her fiercely as he slapped her then held her hips still. She debated looking back over he shoulder to stick her tongue out at him. But the threat of being sent away without an orgasm was too believable. And while she could let her fingers do the work and make herself orgasm later when she was in bed, it wasn't nearly as fun as this.

His hand came down on her ass again.

"Eleven," she called out.

"One," he corrected her.

"What?" she asked.

"That would have been twelve, except now it is one and we begin again. I thought that you were paying attention?" he taunted.

Evangeline tensed before him as she counted the spankings in her head and realized that she'd failed to count off the previous slap. He'd spanked her for moving, and her brain hadn't counted it as part of the game. Obviously she'd been wrong. Or.. more believably… he'd set her up for failure and rigged the game.

His hand came down on her other cheek for symmetry. "Two," she called out as she wondered how she'd ever make it to twenty at this rate if he kept cheating. It had seemed simple enough at first. Now the task felt Herculean. True to his form Erik alternated between slaps, pinches, rubs, and that weird yet amazing thing that he did with his nails as he spanked her in between finger fucking her. Evangeline's impending orgasm grew within her. Having been denied several times before, it loomed threateningly over her now as he teased her in between spankings until she was throbbing and dripping.

"Fifteen," she called out breathily as he brushed his thumb against her sensitive spot again.

Evangeline moaned and her thighs quivered as she struggled to keep her breathing even. "I'm going to cum if you don't stop," she warned him.

Erik's hand withdrew from between her folds, much to her bitter disappointment. He rained three more slaps in quick succession on her ass, and then rubbed and pinched the pink, stinging flesh as she counted off the blows.

"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen," she grunted.

Her thighs wouldn't stop shaking and she had to lean against the bookcase heavily when his fingers brushed her sopping slit again. Evangeline moaned again and forced her hips to remain completely still when she wanted nothing more than to rub against the thumb between her thighs until she found enough friction to force her orgasm to a head. But she didn't. Because she couldn't bear to be sent away from him in shame with her arousal dripping down between her thighs and just her own, lonely hand to help her afterwards.

Erik slapped her other cheek, and the jostling of her stinging flesh pulled at her quivering, throbbing sex. It was nearly as infuriating as his fingers between her legs. She'd had no idea that someone could get pleasure from such a thing before. It left her wondering if she could learn to orgasm one day from just being spanked. Yet another base desire to add to her ever growing list of her perversions.

"Nineteen," she moaned. And then his fingers were between her thighs again and he was invading her and pistoning two fingers in and out of her as he fingered her and rubbed her stinging, hot buttocks with his other hand.

Erik brought her to the brink of orgasm and her thighs were shaking wildly with the strain of it all. Tears sprang to her eyes as the familiar tendrils coiled within her and shame flooded her face as she fought against her own desire. It wasn't fair! She'd done everything that he'd told her to, and now he was just cheating. And it wasn't bloody fair.

"I'm going to cum, sir," she warned him in a gruff voice as she tried to hold her body still and obey his orders. But he was making it so impossible as he brought her right to the brink of orgasm yet again.

"You will not," he denied her.

Evangeline shook from the force of standing on the very precipice for so long after being denied so long. Erik's fingers changed pace and tempo, which helped to draw things out further as her body latched onto this new rhythm. But then that familiar coil was tightening again and in just another stroke or two she'd be screaming through her release whether she wanted to or not. She had absolutely no control over her body now.

His hand smacked her ass harder than he'd ever hit her before as his fingers simultaneously found the bundle of nerves inside of her and stroked it again and again.

"Twenty," she managed to call out with no small amount of satisfaction, and then her orgasm broke over her in waves of rolling pleasure that threatened to topple her over as her interior walls clenched around his fingers and throbbed and twitched with each tug of her muscles.

Her moans filled the empty, dark library and she cried out far louder than would be prudent. But the threat of being caught only made it all the more enjoyable.

Her thighs quivered dangerously and then gave out all-together as Erik wrapped his arm about her waist and lowered her gently to the floor.

He cradled her in his arms and lap as her body twitched through the aftershocks from her orgasm and moisture spread across her thighs. Her backside was sore and tender as she sat in the crook of his lap and leaned her weight against him heavily out of sheer necessity as her breathing struggled to return to normal. Every shift of her weight in his lap stung and brought a flush to her face as she remembered what they'd just done. Shame mingled with pleasure and satisfaction into a confusing cocktail of emotions.

Her eyes sought out his as he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her and held her to him tightly.

Evangeline looked up into his startling, amber gaze, and realized in that moment that she loved him.

She cupped a hand around his face and pulled him down to her in a sweet and gentle kiss to stop herself from doing something as stupid as saying it out loud.

Erik's arms wrapped even tighter around her as he kissed her back just as softly. When the kiss ended he merely held her to his chest tightly as she clung to him and pressed her face against him as she stroked circles against his shoulder. His heart was beating strong and steady beneath her ear.

A moment later when they parted she saw Erik's baffled expression on his face.

"What is it?" she asked, a little worried about what he'd say after what they'd just done.

"I've just noticed that your staircase doesn't end," he murmured.

Evangeline turned her head in the direction that he'd been looking and she spied the spiral staircase and its steps which continued up into the ceiling instead of ending at this topmost floor.

She chuckled in response, then shifted to get more comfortable in his lap and winced when her bottom hit the hardwood floor. When she looked at him again she saw the wide grin on his face.

"A little sore?" he teased her.

"You ass," she cursed. Evangeline swatted at his arm, then winced again when he jostled her on his lap in response.

"The steps don't end on this floor because there is a hidden hatch. It goes all the way up to the roof," she explained as she settled her legs more comfortably over his spread eagled lap and repositioned her skirts.

Erik made a noise in the back of his throat as he tilted his head and considered it. "Ah, yes," he said finally. "I see the panel now. It's hidden very well."

Evangeline shrugged and looked at the staircase. "It's the old widow's walk. So that the chimney sweep can get up onto the roof to clean the chimney out properly before every winter. Freddie and I used to sneak up there frequently when we were children to watch the stars. Much to our governess' utterly horrified dismay."

Erik looked down at her and smiled slightly, setting butterflies loose in Evangeline's stomach again. "You were both little hellions, I imagine," he added softly.

Evangeline grinned in reply until her cheeks dimpled. "The absolute worst," she agreed with a dazzling smile.

"Not much has changed, then," he quipped and then chuckled when she smacked his shoulder again lightly.

Erik leaned forward and kissed her gently. "I'd like to see it," he added.

Evangeline stroked a finger down his arm and shifted in his lap. "One day… when my legs don't feel like pudding. If we went up now then it would be just your luck that I'd topple right off the roof and break my fool neck," she said evenly. "They don't call it a widow's walk for nothing," she added darkly when he glanced at her again.

Erik's smile faltered a little as he reached a thumb up to brush along the length of her jaw.

"We couldn't have that," he murmured as he leaned forward to steal another kiss.

Evangeline smiled against his mouth and wrapped an arm around his neck as she kissed him back.

She withdrew from him a moment later and rose onto wobbly, arousal smeared legs as she settled her skirts and watched him stand and shift his trousers awkwardly. She pointedly ignored the obvious bulge in his pants. Apparently he'd enjoyed the spankings as much as she had. Perhaps if he hadn't teased her so mercilessly she'd have offered to take care of him again before they parted ways. But she figured that he deserved a little taste of his own medicine.

Evangeline gathered up her drawers and slipped them back on as best as she could, then reached up and plucked a book off of the shelf. It was the one that had been banging into her head so much.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked in a voice that betrayed his amusement as she read the title and cracked it open.

"This is the book that my head kept heading. Do you wonder if was a sign from God that I should read it?" she answered back blithely as she thumbed through its pages.

He laughed in response.

"Besides," she continued. "It's my excuse for being here in case I am caught," she said as she shut the book and held it loosely in one hand.

And then Evangeline moved over to the other side of the book lined alcove and grabbed a book from higher up on the shelf. "Here, this one's yours," she joked as she handed his book to him.

Erik laughed again and took it from her as Evangeline pressed a quick kiss against his lips.

They each tucked their respective books into the crooks of their arms as he cupped her face with his free hand and pulled her to him.

"When will I see you again?" he asked her more seriously.

Evangeline arched a brow at him. "You see me every day at our music lessons and then again at dinner," she answered with false innocence.

Erik released her face and raised a hand to swat at her sore behind. Evangeline squeaked and dashed to the side to evade him. Her ass was sore enough, thank you very much.

"You know what I mean," he retorted gruffly.

Evangeline pouted at him and fisted her free hand on her hip.

When Erik continued to stare at her like that she danced from foot to foot as she wracked her brain and thought. There was one thing that she'd been considering, but it risked a lot and she hadn't had the time to cement it fully. But that niggling inner voice was back and saying that they only had two weeks left and then they might never see one another again. If there was a time to be bold, it was now.

"There is a little rustic hunting lodge just a ways into the woods around the beginning of our property. It's not terribly far, but it's well hidden unless you know the path. Freddie and I used to go there when we were tired of riding but didn't want to return home. But I don't know that just the four of us will be able to break away now that everyone is here. It could arouse a great deal of suspicion," she told him.

"The four of us? Jonathan and Freddie, you mean," he answered his own question quickly.

Evangeline nodded as she tucked her book under her arm better and considered it. But the lodge, as rustic as it was, had the only bed that she could think of that would not come with so many listening ears attached.

"Freddie owes me, as you know. And I know that they would appreciate the chance for a few hours of escape as well. I will start to lay the foundation. Give me a few days to see what I can manage," she replied.

Erik nodded and reached forward to brush a stray lock of hair behind her hair. His fingers trailed a path down her jaw until his fingers pinched her chin. He pulled her against him and angled their faces for a parting kiss. Evangeline pressed her mouth against his softly.

_Soon_, she thought. She just needed a little more time to put it all together.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

Erik watched in bemusement three days later as Eva dragged a confused and half asleep Freddie into the stables in the early morning hours of a foggy day. The horses lifted their heads to see what the commotion was about before returning (unimpressed) to their breakfast of hay and oats.

"It's too bloody early for this, Eva," Freddie whined as Jonathan stumbled in behind them, just as bleary eyed and confused.

"We have to leave early. That is the entire point, Freddie. If we dawdle too long then our guests are liable to see us leaving," she explained in an exasperated voice.

Freddie continued to grumble under his breath while Erik turned to help Evangeline saddle their horses. They couldn't have risked waking the stable hands for assistance so the task fell to them.

Erik took the opportunity to brush a hand against the small of Evangeline's back as he pretended to check the integrity of her horse's saddle strap. The faint blush that stole across her cheeks was a pleasant reward that bolstered his ego.

Eric pitched his voice to her right ear so that only she could hear him. "I like the riding dress," he complimented. "Although I liked the view of you in those britches the last time, too."

Evangeline brushed against him as she leaned over her golden horse to adjust his bit and bridle. The corner of her mouth tipped up ever so slightly proving that she'd heard him.

Freddie made a rude noise as he swung up onto his horse beside a wisely silent Jonathan. "Alright… if you're both done with… whatever it is that the both of you doing over there then can we please get out into the woods already? I'm starving. I don't know why we have to wait until we're in the woods to break our fast. The least that you can do for waking me so early is feed me."

Erik placed his hands on either side of Evangeline's waist and lifted her up onto her horse's side saddle. She laughed and arranged the long tail of her riding skirt into a sweep of fabric that trailed down her horse's flank.

"Thank you," she murmured as she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

Erik pulled his own saddled and bridled horse from another stall and mounted effortlessly. He noticed the way that she watched him hungrily as he slid his feet into the stirrups and grasped the reins. Freddie rolled his eyes rather dramatically and mounted his own gray dappled gelding while muttering under his breath.

"I say, it is a nice morning for a ride," a man remarked from the stable doors.

Everyone's attention swiveled towards the barn door where the silhouetted figure of one of the guests could be seen. The rising sun shone behind him casting him into shadows.

Erik's eyes narrowed as that young fop, the one who'd caused such a stir at dinner a few nights ago strolled casually into the barn.

"Lord Blackett," Evangeline murmured in polite greeting. "You have risen early on this fine morning."

"The early bird catches the worm, as they say," Blacket replied with a predatory gleam in his eye.

Erik cast a sideways glance and witnessed the look of unease pass between Freddie and Jonathan as their horses swayed in place.

"Indeed…" Evangeline faltered. "We were just on our way for an early morning ride."

"How fortuitous for me, then, I love to ride. Perhaps I shall join you. I find that there's no more invigorating a way to start the day than a _long, hard_ ride," Blackett added with a pointed tip of his chin towards Evangeline.

Erik fought to keep his expression neutral as he listened to this buffoon. His eyes flickered to Evangeline, whose haughty mask of indifference was firmly fixed into place. Her eyes were cold and her mouth was set into a thin line of displeasure.

"I fear that our leisurely ride may bore you to tears then, my lord, if you are looking for a challenge. We had merely planned to ride out and picnic before returning in time for the luncheon on the lawn. Mother has a rousing game of yard ball planned. And I have heard that some of the gentlemen are planning for an afternoon hunt."

"Unfortunately I am not such an avid hunter as to be tempted by pheasant or quail. I prefer a different sort of sport," the fop added with a thinly veiled smirk as the man stared up at Evangeline with a lopsided grin that Erik thought the boy probably assumed was charming, but really just looked smug.

Blackett reached out and grabbed the trailing loop of Evangeline's reins. Apollo huffed and jerked his head as he stamped a hoof in protest against the straw covered barn floor. Erik wished that the large behemoth of a horse would just trample the fop and save them all the trouble of the man's wretched company. It really was too bad that Blackett hadn't tried to pet Lucifer instead.

"Would you care to join us, my lord?" Evangeline inquired.

"I can think of no better way to spend a morning than in your company, my lady. I would be honored to join you," Blackett answered as his grin widened.

The man's eyes slid around the barn and then settled on Erik. Brown met amber as the two men regarded each other levely and quietly, sizing one another up. Erik's grip on the reins tightened and the ill-tempered Arabian underneath him shifted his weight in response. Maybe this fop's horse would throw this annoying man off a ridge and into a briar full of thorns? One could only hope.

"Even if you do keep such… _interesting_ company," Blackett added dryly as his eyes cut a dismissive glance towards Erik, and then away again.

Evangeline gathered up the slack in her reins, forcing Blackett to either release the strip of leather or wrestle her for control. The corners of her mouth twisted up into a frightening facsimile of a smile as Evangeline stroked a finger along the smooth rolled edge of leather as she peered down at Blackett from her perch on the saddle.

"Will you ride your own horse, sir, or shall you borrow one of ours? I am certain that we could find one of father's horses to suit you," she offered.

Blacket's smile flashed a lot of teeth, reminding Erik of a predator who'd gotten his first downwind whiff of injured prey.

"Hurry it up, mate," Freddie whined from the back of the barn as their horses shifted with either anticipation of a ride, or impatience at being woken so early and pulled from their own breakfast.

Blacket stepped back from Evangeline and Apollo. "No need, but I thank you for the courtesy. I can have my own mount saddled and ready in just a few moments." And then the young fop disappeared into the back of the barn to do just that.

Erik watched the heavy glances between Evangeline and Freddie and Jonathan, all of them silent as they listened to the sounds of tack and saddle being pulled from the wall and the shifting clomps of a horse being readied. And then their little quartet gained a fifth as Blacket joined their party.

Evangeline nudged her mount forward (as she was closest to the doors) and began to lead the way out. Erik squeezed his knees and silently urged his horse to follow hers when Blacket pushed past them from the back, startling their little line of horses. Erik's stallion, unimpressed at being crowded so rudely, huffed loudly as he swayed left and leaned his large head over to snap blunt teeth in displeasure at the horse that had jostled him aside. Blackett passed them unharmed by just a hair's breadth, but the angry swish and flick of Blackett's horse's tail and the swiveling of his ears betrayed their notice.

It was a pity that the horse's teeth hadn't landed after all. A hard nip on the shoulder could have sent the man back into the house for ice and a lie down at the very least. Blunt grazer's teeth were unlikely to do too much true harm but they could hurt like the dickens and leave a large bruise and an ache behind for days.

Evangeline's attention swiveled back to watch the tail end of the altercation as Blackett pushed his horse ahead of hers and out into the stable yard. Her eyes met Erik's, then skittered briefly over Freddie and Jonathan before finally turning back towards the cause of the disturbance.

Erik watched her lovely face in profile as she regarded the arrogant little lordling. He watched the cold assessment of her eyes, and then the upturned tilt of her lips in a wry smile of amusement.

"Do you mean to lead the party then, Mr. Blackett? I can not recall that you have done much riding on our family's estate. But if you know of a better spot for picnicking then please, do take the lead. You are our guest, after all, and your whim is our command," she said in a sweet voice.

Erik heard the honeyed voice and saw her amused, sly grin and wondered if there was more to it than a gentle rebuke for the baronet's brash rudeness. But Evangeline knew that this boy was dangerous beneath his charming, handsome facade Not dangerous to Erik, of course, because Erik knew how to look for these sorts of men and his faithful punjab lasso was always at the ready. But he wondered if she saw the predator that lurked deep within the man's cold eyes. Erik saw it. He would watch, and wait, and see what came of it. He could be patient. And maybe, just maybe, the man's horse would slip a shoe and man and beast would both topple off some cliff face. It would be a waste of good horse flesh, but some evils were simply necessary.

"Apologies, my lady. It appears that both my horse and I are simply over eager to spend a glorious morning in the presence of such fine company," the boy confessed.

"Interesting company, you mean," Evangeline amended with a falsely sweet smile and flashing, angry eyes.

It was a stupid man who couldn't see the trap she'd just set.

The baronet removed his hat and held it over his heart as if he were taking an oath. Blackett screwed his face into something that was probably an attempt at looking charming and rakish all at once. "My lady, how could your fine company be anything _but_ interesting?"

Evangeline ignored him and twisted in her side saddle to peer back at her brother. "Freddie, if you'd please," she asked demurely in a voice that clearly did not allow for dissent.

Freddie heaved a long-suffering sigh but clicked his heel into his horse's side and dutifully took up the lead position. Their mounts all fell into place as Freddie and Jonathan headed out onto the worn in game path. Blackett waved Evangeline before him with a gentlemanly gesture, then closed the gap behind her.

The rear of the line and the spot closest to Blackett suited Erik just fine. He pressed a knee into the stallion's side and silently nudged the beast forward to take up the rear and close the widening gap between them.

He wanted this one in his sights at all time. Erik's fingers felt for the familiar length of cat gut that was always at his wrist and he was reassured that everything was as it should be as he followed the line of riders into the quiet, sleepy woods.

The trek through the wooded countryside was familiar now as Freddie led their merry little group to the shaded bank at the base of the small waterfall. As they all dismounted Erik stepped towards Evangeline and with a jerk of his head and a short whistling tune to Apollo, led their horses aside to the line of the trees where they were stabling them. Erik had no need to lead them with their bit and bridle. He trusted that they would follow. His own fearsome stallion followed behind him as quickly as an enamored puppy.

"Eerie, how they follow him about without a lead. It isn't natural," Blackett whispered loudly.

Erik led the two horses into the shade and softly ordered them to stay. Their reins trailed along the grass as they bent their heads to nibble their way towards a second breakfast. Jonathan and Freddie's horses looked at their freely grazing horse brothers with envy (their own reins tied loosely to low branches to prevent them from wandering). There was not enough slack for them to reach the ground but if they strained they could strip leaves from low hanging branches.

"I have heard it said that animals are an excellent judge of character," Evangeline replied as she hunted through the folds of her voluminous skirts for hidden button loops and busied herself with tying her long riding train up and out of the way onto her bustle.

Erik ran a hand down Apollo's golden shoulder and enjoyed the way the muscle quivered underneath his touch.

"That stallion tried to bite me. I merely worry for your safety, my lady," the fop declared.

"Your worrying is unnecessary, as I was not the horse's target," she refuted in an easy voice.

Erik watched silently as Freddie and Jonathan set about unpacking their horse's saddlebags and pulled out wrapped up bundles of hard cheese and fruit and crusty loaves of fresh baked bread. A blanket was unrolled and spread out upon an even looking patch of grass and then their breakfast was piled in the center. A bottle of icy lemonade was added to their feast.

"That beast is unmannered and should not be allowed near such easily bruised sweetness," Blackett continued.

And Erik, hearing the thinly veiled barb, turned until he could just see the pair of them in his periphery. The familiar weight of catgut at his wrist made the fingers that were petting Evangeline's horse twitch with anticipation.

"My lord, you should not be thinking of my flesh at all, bruised or otherwise. It is unseemly," she chided.

And this time she did not keep the frostiness from her voice. Erik watched her sly grin fade to be replaced her cold mask of boredom.

Blacket touched a gloved hand to Evangeline's elbow as the man leaned forward, his head dipped and his voice lowered as if they were conspirators whispering in a dark alcove and not picnickers standing in a copse of trees just thirty feet from others.

"Evangeline," Blackett murmured, "you must have some notion of the nature of my regard for you. I confess, that I have not paid much tribute to you in recent times. But do not let that dissuade you from the depths of my true feelings. Is it not the way of the heart, to be mysterious? Truthfully, I am concerned for you and your wellbeing. As any man who looks upon such a beauteous angel would be. This world is dangerous, and we men do our best to shelter you womenfolk from such harsh truths. But I can not force myself into silence any longer. I fear that I must make my intentions plain, or risk losing you forever. And yes, it would be a great loss. A loss that I would feel for eternity. You are a jewel, Evangeline. I care not what others say. I am deaf to their wagging tongues. Your beauty and sweetness and purity of soul have ruined me for any others. Please say something, anything, and put me from my misery."

Erik's vision tinged with red at this hushed confession of feelings. He felt Apollo side step away as cold fury washed over him and settled deep into the pit of his stomach. His fingers clenched into a fist as his arms dropped to his sides. A quick glance at Freddie and Jonathan confirmed that they had busied themselves with arranging the morning meal. They gave no appearance at having heard the whispered confession of the pair on the opposite side of the clearing.

Evangeline was silent as she and the baronet looked at one another. The fool's hand was still cupping her elbow.

"All these years of silence… you have been pining for me?" she asked in a breathy, quiet voice as she stared up at Blackett.

And just like that, Erik's rage evaporated into cold, familiar dread. He turned his face away from them and stared at the line of horses. A hand reached out and grabbed the stallion's dangling rein. Erik was aware that it must be his hand, because it looked like his hand and it looked and it was attached to him. But that was the end of his awareness of his actions. It felt like he was in a daze. He felt rooted to the spot. The stallion shifted and side stepped, wary, as Erik stood there feeling foolish once more.

"You are in love with me?" Evangeline asked with a voice full of shocked wonder.

"My lady, how could you even ask? I have loved you since that first moment that I saw you across the crowded room at the Warwickshire ball."

"So long?" she asked, her voice trailing off into quiet. "I never knew," she protested with a shake of her head. "How could I not have known the depths of your true feelings?"

"That is my own fault. I knew that you were above me in rank and your father's title and that he would never let you marry down. So I held my affections for you close to my heart and hoped that with time they would fade. But then I received the invitation, and later learned that you had penned it by your own hand. And it gave me hope, my dear lady. I prayed that it meant that you might return my secret feelings. And so I came. And I stayed, regardless of all that unpleasantness a few nights ago. But the days passed and I became despondent that we had not had even a moment to talk earnestly with one another. So I set out this morning to see if I could win some of your time and attention, and thus earn your affections before another beats me to that sweet prize. I can only pray that I have not been too late. Please, give me a word, just one, to let me know that I am not too late."

"Unpleasantness?" Evangeline questioned.

Erik forced himself to turn enough to watch them again. Evangeline's face was masked once more.

"You would dare to call what you have done to that poor girl 'unpleasantness'?" she asked in a shocked voice.

"Forgive me, my lady, I should not have-

Evangeline shook her head and cut him off.

-No! Enough. I have heard enough from the likes of _you_. It is no wonder that you have ruined so many debutantes. I wonder how it is that more of them have not fallen at your feet. You speak such honeyed lies so easily, they drip from your tongue with ease. In truth, I am envious of your talent. It is a struggle for me, you see, and yet you make such deception appear so easy and simple. Tell me, how often do you reuse your pretty speeches? Have you found that certain phrases work the best? We are just poor, dumb females, after all. Surely some of your material can be recycled. Tell me, do you rehearse these things? Or do you prefer to speak without a plan, and let the words come to you as they will in the moment?" she reprimanded.

Blackett looked as if he'd been struck. "Evangeline, please, if I have said something out of turn then please, I beg you to-

She scoffed loudly, then laughed mockingly. Blackett stared at her in shock as if he'd never truly seen her before. Erik watched the predatory gleam return to the man's eyes. He took one step and then another forward. Freddie and Jonathan had finally noticed the odd occurance on the other side of the glade.

Evangeline shook her arm free of Blackett's grip and stepped to the side forcing him to either unhand her elbow or step with her. The fop's earnest expression cracked with the first hint of unease.

"You prey on young, innocent women who only yearn for a marriage based on love instead of familial duty. You feed them honeyed lies, then steal affections and leave them ruined and slandered. And yet your reputation never suffers! Oh, no! You go to your men's clubs and regale them with your stories of conquest and you are met with a slap on the back and a drink thrust in your hand. Boys will be boys! While those poor young girls lives are ruined forever. You take your stolen kisses and caresses and then shame you them for it for all to see. It is a disgusting thing, and yet you do it over and over, again and again, because you are remorseless. The fault of it is not even entirely yours, because the men who you boast to clap you on the back and buy you spirits as they congratulate you, and the mothers and fathers of these poor young girls bundle their shameful daughters off to convents or send them off to foreign soil in the hopes that word of their depravity and ruin haven't spread across the sea. A jewel, am I? Am I still precious to you now, my lord? Does my sharp tongue still fill you with desire and hopes and dreams? No? I can see by your face that you are shocked. Men tell women to be quiet. Our mothers teach us to be silent and passive. We are pretty ornaments whose only duty is to birth sons and pass forward the family name until the day that we dutifully die. But I am not like other women, much to my parents' dismay. I will not be quieted. A jewel. Your secret love. What bullshit flattery is this? My dowry must be rich indeed to have spurred you to such desperate action to wake before dawn and force yourself on our simple little outing. Tell me, _blackheart_, how fat is the purse that comes attached to my shame? I would know the price of your pride," she demanded.

Blackett's face was mottled with either embarrassment or rage now as Evangeline finished her tirade and looked up at him with expectation. Freddie and Jonathan stood as silent witnesses. Erik stepped closer, his fingers at the ready to slip his punjab lasso free in case the fop took offense to Evangeline's sharp tongue lashing.

Evangeline's attention shifted to sweep across the clearing. Her eyes flashed with challenge and her cheeks were washed in pink.

"No one? Will no one tell me what I am worth to inspire such a moving declaration of love from this black hearted vile little cretin?" she raged.

"Last I heard, darling sister, the dowry was up to twenty-five thousand pounds and a hundred acres," Freddie supplied.

Evangeline merely nodded. "Yes, I suppose that would do it," she muttered, then swung back around to Blackett.

Blackett paled. "Evangeline, please-

She cut him off again. "You have no right to use my Christian name, sir. I am not your betrothed. I am not your kin. And, though this may not matter to the Ton since my reputation was tarnished years ago it does matter to me, I do not _like_ you. I think that you are perhaps the worst sort of villain that exists. And I invited you here to inspire Georgiana to action. I would never have accepted any offer from you. Truthfully, I would rather die than be married to a monster like you."

Blackett's eyes narrowed into slits as he drew himself up to his full height. Erik saw the man's hand open and close into a fist at his side until his knuckles turned white from the strain. Erik angled himself forward across the clearing. If the fool made a move, any move at all, then Erik would be there to do whatever was necessary. _Consequences be damned._

"I don't recall asking you for your hand in marriage, you presumptive little slut," Blackett seethed between gritted teeth.

Red tinged Erik's vision as the thin, strong twine of catgut slid into his waiting hand with a practiced flick. He never even saw Evangeline move. But she must have, because a moment later Blackett was sprawled on his back in the dirt howling in pain and clutching at his face and Evangeline was standing over him shaking the hurt from her hand.

"Oh! Look at the state of my knuckles now. Erik! You never said that punching a man would split the skin to bleeding," she yelled at him.

Erik closed the distance between them in seven long strides. He took her bruised and bleeding hand in his and eyed the red, angry, broken skin along her knuckles. His gaze traveled down to Blackett who still laid on the ground with a hand protectively cupping his rapidly bruising, swelling eye.

"That's how you know you've done it right," Erik answered, amused.

"You're mad! Certifiable!" Blackett screamed up at them from the ground as his fingers probed his blackening eye, smearing a thin trail of blood across his cheek where the skin had split.

Evangeline and Erik looked down at him in unison.

"And you are a very bad horseman. Your horse was spooked and you were thrown from your seat," Evangeline said as her head shook in mock shame.

"Your face hit a rock in the bad landing. Such poor luck, old chap," Freddie added without a pause.

Blackett looked about the clearing, his gaze bouncing from person to person as Evangeline and Erik continued to stand over him.

"You're all insane!" Blackett protested.

Evangeline held her bloodied fist to her heart, but whether it was to prepare herself for another attack or simply to stop the bleeding through elevation Erik wasn't certain.

"I would not bother with telling any other story," she scoffed. "My brother and fiance and tutor will corroborate my accounting of the events. Besides, do you truly wish to tell everyone that you were bested by a mere woman?" she sneered.

Blackett scrambled up. Erik shouldered Evangeline behind him, then reached out and grasped the bloodied fool by the throat. He heaved the man up and continued up, up, up, even when the man was well past standing. Blackett's feet flailed for purchase on the ground as Erik hoisted him into the air with his preternaturally strong grip.

"You fell from your horse and hit a rock. Say it," Erik ordered quietly as he held the man's eyes in his hypnotic gaze and squeezed.

Blackett struggled for a moment, then nodded dutifully as his face colored first red, and then purple from the lack of air. Erik's grip never wavered as his eyes narrowed into menacing slits. "Say it."

"Horse. Fell. Rock," Blackett croaked.

Satisfied, Erik let the man drop onto his feet and scrabble away from them to his horse. The four picnickers watched as their intruder untied his horse, mounted in one swift leap, then man and beast tore out of the clearing together.

Erik watched the man go until he was certain that the foul little baronet was well and truly gone, then turned his attentions back to Evangeline's bloodied hand.

"Well that was invigorating," she declared with one of her rare, true smiles as he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and pressed it to her bloodied knuckles. It was unnecessary, perhaps, since the small tear in her skin was already clotting up and the trickle of blood had slackened and started to dry and flake already. But his hands itched with the need to do something and this task was as good as any other.

"Let's clean that, shall we?" Erik murmured as he grabbed her good hand and pulled her away from the picnic towards the water's edge. He dipped his handkerchief into the clear water then carefully dabbed at her injury.

"I hit him exactly as you instructed, Erik, I imagined a great box behind his head and put my weight into the twist. Did you see him go down! He fell like a great sack of potatoes. Ouch! Oh, that smarts like none other. You failed to warn me about the repercussions, however. I am going to have to wear gloves for at least a week now. How else shall I explain this to mother? Still, it was worth it so see him go flat on his ass like that," she laughed.

Erik forced his writhing emotions down as he tended to her injury. He slipped the bridle back on his red rage and focused on his breathing while he dabbed at her knuckles until he was certain that he was the master of himself again.

"You did very well," he told her honestly. Nevermind that he'd only taught her how to punch to humor her and he never once actually thought that she might have to use that knowledge one day. He would need to teach her more, he realized. Ways to get out of holds, ways to fight a stronger enemy, ways to incapacitate someone without killing them. Because he'd actually felt himself age ten years in just those five seconds that Blackett had loomed over her.

Except that summer was coming to an end and they were very nearly out of time for such things. And with all these people constantly under foot there was never any privacy anymore.

She was looking up at him, cheeks pinked and eyes bright with her smile crinkling the skin at the corners of her eyes. Erik thought that she'd never looked so beautiful as she did right now in this moment.

"Are we _ever_ going to eat?" Freddie moaned even as Jonathan shushed him.

Evangeline tore her gaze from Erik's to look over at her brother. "We should pack it all up actually. If we're too far behind Blackheart then the story looks suspicious."

Freddie groaned and kicked a baguette into the grass in mutinous reply.

Erik never shifted from their kneeling by the water's edge as his eyes tried to drink in every detail of her. The stormy color of her eyes- they looked more blue than gray today- and the wispy strands of baby fine hair that grew along her forehead and which refused to be coiffed into her elaborate updos. The perfect curve of her ear, and the scandalous piercing of her lobe. A small tear drop shaped sapphire hung from it and swung with every movement of her head. His groin tightened even as his stomach churned in a strange combination of lust and dread.

The summer was nearly over. And no one knew time's cruel march more than Erik. He studied her profile and tried to commit the curve of her nose and the smattering of freckles to memory.

He knew that when he closed his eyes and thought of her he would always see her like this. Kneeling on muddy river rocks without a care in the world for the growing stains on her dress, clutching a bloodied hand to her chest while brushing a curl of hair that was escaping her hairstyle aside. For as long as he lived he would never forget the sparkle in her eye right now.

It was pride.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

The days seemed to pass quicker now and there were no more opportunities for secret moments or moonlit rendezvous. Evangeline's every waking moment was filled with hostess duties. There were morning and afternoon walks through the gardens with eligible bachelors. Then they all gathered to luncheon on the lawn and play some sort of sport. Badminton or croquette or lawn darts or some other such nonsense that allowed the opposite sexes to mingle in an appropriate fashion while minimizing the risk for touching. If she never had to wear her sporting outfit again it would be altogether too bloody soon. Nevermind that she was only allowed to watch the archery competition from a socially acceptable distance up the small hill in the back field. And never mind that she was a far better shot than any other competitor that sunny afternoon. It would be considered unladylike to trounce the competition. So Evangeline watched and clapped and smiled her perfected, bland smile and did her duty as she pretended to enjoy it too.

Indeed, her mother seemed to have an opinion on everything she did these days. Evangeline was forbidden from wearing yellow- _it made her look sallow_, or from laughing too loudly- _a lady's voice should always be as gentle and soft as a whisper_, or even reading for pleasure- _a husband prefers a wife who is accomplished in embroidery, not science_. Just about the only thing that her mother actually approved of currently was Evangeline's insistence on wearing her gloves at all times. If her mother only knew the real reason for it she would surely collapse into a dead faint right on the spot.

Evangeline was sitting dutifully like a good daughter should on the settee in the cabbage rose sitting room and stabbing a needle and thread into her latest piece of embroidery while the other various young ladies who were in residence for the summer party talked and gossiped amongst themselves.

The little silver needle pushed through the fibers of her cloth with a _stab_. Evangeline wove her crimson thread in and out. The pattern had been outlined weeks ago and was now mostly filled in so the work was easy and her mind could wander far and wide now. Her thoughts drifted to Erik, as they often did when she was alone. And even though she was surrounded by people she still felt utterly alone.

The ache between her thighs hadn't given her a moment's peace. Ever since that night in the library when Erik's strong hands had brought wicked things to her surface. And then that unpleasantness with Blackett had ruined what appeared to be her one and only chance at being truly alone with Erik. The recital was tomorrow. The engagement ball was the next evening. And then Evangeline would have no further need of a music tutor.

Evangeline dutifully stabbed the needle in and out and in again as she brought her embroidery to life. But her mind refused to focus on her hands. Instead she was reminded of the feel of his hands on her. The way he'd stroked the curve of her thigh and left gooseflesh in his fingers' wake. How her whole body had hummed as his fingers traced that slick line of her folds and caressed the sloping curve of her bottom.

He'd started a fire within her, then left her to kindle that ember alone, and now she felt as if she was being slowly burned alive by it.

Perhaps ignorance really was bliss. Maybe being married off to some dispassionate, titled husband really would have been better. It was possible that remaining ignorant of the delights to be found in a truly passionate joining would have made bearing her future husband's clumsy attempts at procreation and jolly ol' English duty bearable. At least until such a time that she could one day take a lover. Still, that was a long ways off. She'd owe Jonathan at least one heir.

Her mother's instructions, now that Evangeline's matrimonious state loomed before them like a great and ominous black cloud, had been simple: lie back, spread your thighs, pray to God that he's quick about it, and think of England.

It was impossible to hear her mother's cold instructions and corroborate them with the fire that Erik had stoked within her. Mostly, Evangeline just felt frustrated. Her own hand merely satisfied the itch for a little while before that great pressing need roared back to life and was grown until it was even more impossible to ignore than before. She felt like she was walking about in a constant state of unending need. Her thighs were always slick with dew, her breasts were taut and aching to be touched, and her nipples pebbled and chaffed against her chemise until they'd become red and raw. She felt like a cat with her back arched in heat who meowed pitifully for relief.

The needle and thread stabbed through the cloth, met resistance in the tangle of knots at the back, then finally broke free and caught Evangeline's glove and finger in the process. "Oh damn," she hissed between clenched teeth as she pulled the needle from her flesh. A bead of blood welled and stained her white satin glove. Evangeline frowned down at it as Georgiana made a startled sound beside her on the sofa.

"Is it ruined?" the girl asked even as she impetuously plucked the embroidery from Evangeline's hands to inspect it for damage.

Evangeline's eyes followed her, her throbbing injured finger quickly forgotten.

"I don't think that it is ruined. If any blood stained it then it is hidden beneath all of this red," Georgiana answered her own question.

"Oh good," Evangeline said facetiously, "I am so close to finishing it that I would hate to see it ruined by my clumsiness." She reached a hand out for its return.

Georgiana cocked her head, then turned the the piece of cloth about. The girl's face scrunched in confusion. "I thought that you were doing roses, but these do not look like flowers."

"Ah, no… not exactly," Evangeline evaded as she reached for her needlework.

Georgiana pulled away before Evangeline's fingers could grasp at it. "What is it then?"

Evangeline reached further and grasped it finally from Georgiana's hands, and promptly stabbed herself a second time in the process.

Her mother looked up with an expression of confusion from her seat on the opposite sofa. "Evangeline, I thought that I told you to embroider a garden scene for the new dining chair seats. What are you about, girl?"

"I want to see!" Georgiana cried as she grabbed the embroidery back and deftly pulled it from its wooden hoop.

"Stop, Georgiana! You will make me lose my place!" Evangeline cried out as she tried to wrestle it back.

_Damn and bother._

Georgiana wrestled the embroidery hoop off and then her fingers smoothed the work in progress out. Evangeline noticed that the chit never stabbed herself either. Traitorous needle.

"What… what is this?" Georgiana asked in a faint and distressed voice.

"It is a biblical scene, of course," Evangeline muttered as she finally managed to pull the little square of offensive cloth free of Georgiana's suddenly slack hands.

Her mother set her own needle point aside and extended an empty hand forward. The command was silent, but Evangeline heard it clear and loud all the same. A hush fell over the room as every idle conversation and stab of needle through cloth stopped.

Evangeline stood, sighed the sigh of the long suffering, then handed the piece of embroidery over for judgement.

"Judith and Holofernes," she supplied a little unnecessarily.

"Yes…" her mother replied. "I can see that. You have captured the beheading scene quite well. Although this is a rather excessive use my good red thread. I am not certain that the act is described so… graphically in our lord's good book."

The entire room of girls tried to slyly sneak a peek. A few gasped. One crossed herself.

Evangeline felt the blood drain from her face as her mother's eyes finally rose to find hers. Why had she ever thought that this would be a good idea? Why was she always needling her mother like this? It only got her into worse trouble. She was the one who paid for it at every turn. And it never made her feel any better in the end. She never really won these unspoken challenges between them. Mother always found a way to needle her right back. Except that her jabs were always just a little deeper and cut a little closer to the heartstrings.

"Your glove is soiled. Go upstairs and change it," her mother ordered tonelessly as she folded the unfinished piece of embroidery into fourths and set it aside and away from delicate prying eyes into her basket of thread.

Evangeline settled her mask of cold indifference firmly into place and nodded serenely in reply. She ignored Georgiana's sorrowful look and the gawking stares of the other girls as she glided from the room with her head held high.

* * *

Her mother's revenge was apparent that evening when Evangeline's usual dining escort was changed without advance notice to the elderly Viscount Cobham who had to be at least in his sixties and reputedly had lost his first and third wives in childbirth, his second to influenza, and his fourth to (if the rumors could be believed) suicide. He still wore his hair in the fashion of the fifties meaning that his wispy white hair had been styled to blend seamlessly into his enormous, curly mutton chops. Evangeline had not paid the aging Viscount much thought or attention until this very moment. But her mother's absence from dinner for a terrible headache forced Evangeline to be his dinner escort. Etiquette rules must be obeyed, after all.

Evangeline placed her gloved hand dutifully on his proffered arm and tried to think more kindly thoughts of him. It wouldn't be fair to judge him solely based only upon his age and matrimonial bad luck. And if he looked down at her and let his eyes wander into her cleavage a little too often to be considered polite, then she was too well bred to draw even more attention to it. And if he held her a little too familiarly into his side than was proper, then she merely focused on the twenty-two steps that it would take to bring her to her chair. And if his fingers grazed her backside just ever so slightly as he pushed her chair forward while she sat, then she ignored that too. Because she knew that if she started to say anything at all then she'd end up screaming. So really it was best to just sit, stay silent unless spoken to, and behave as a proper young lady should.

A servant filled her water glass before moving down the line to the next dining guest. Evangeline gulped too large a slip. She'd have done anything to quench the suddenly barren desert wasteland that had become her dry mouth. Her tongue felt thick and useless and she knew that if she had to speak that her voice would come out quiet and weak.

Mother's silent message about proper ladylike behavior was crystal clear. _Behave or else because it can always get worse for you. _

* * *

At music practice the next morning Evangeline was completely useless. Erik noticed the change in her immediately, she was certain. The musicale was to be this evening. Evangeline felt the threat of it looming above her neck just like a sword. She knew, at once, how Damocles had must have felt. Why then could she not put the idea of her mother with gleaming, shiny scissors from her mind? Evangeline paused in her awful playing to rub at her throat. If she pressed hard enough she could actually feel the cut starting to form. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. How had everything gone so wrong? Summer was over now. She was to be engaged, and then married. Erik would leave for Italy. And then she would quite possibly never, ever be happy again.

"Evangeline," Erik called to her and she realized that it was not the first time that he'd called her name.

"I can not do this," she whispered, her voice as quiet as a mouse. Her hands fell uselessly into her lap.

He sighed and placed his long musicians fingers delicately over the piano's keys, thumb to high C out of habit.

"Stage fright is normal. Everyone is frightened at first when performing before others," he reassured her.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it," she protested weakly.

Erik ignored her, and that stung. "Once you begin to play the audience will fade and you will lose yourself to the music. You have a musician's heart no matter how hard you try to hide it."

Evangeline felt the threat of tears and focused on her breathing to keep them at bay. The panic was there, waiting, and if she allowed herself just a moment of weakness then it would overtake her and she wouldn't be able to stop. She breathed in and out, then lifted the lid on the piano, set her hands on the keys, and started to play.

Erik's hand settled over her glove lightly, a ghost of a touch, causing her to miss a note.

"Evangeline…" he started, then trailed off. "Don't stop playing," he finished finally after a pause.

So she didn't. Evangeline ran through the entire piece and then when it was done she looped back to the beginning and started again.

"It would not be so frightening if you would simply promise to stay by my side," she managed to choke out finally past the lump in her throat. Her fingers flew over familiar keys but she was only half paying attention to it. She'd long ago committed the piece to memory. The sheet music was unnecessarily redundant now that the song had impregnated itself into the very fiber of her soul. She would always see his face, hear his voice, and feel the ghosting memory of his fingers on her skin whenever she played this.

Her eyes cut upwards to see the anguish plainly visible on the unmasked portion of his face.

Her mother bustled into the room bearing a giant bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase. Erik's hand withdrew and the distance between them grew. The bouquet was set atop the piano and turned this way and that until her mother was finally satisfied that the blooms were displayed to their full advantage.

"For you, my dear, as thanks for being such a charming dinner companion last evening. It seems that you can appear well mannered with the proper motivations. I expect similar ladylike comportment tonight. You will be well mannered, you will look as beautiful as a diamond of the first water should, and you will play that piano flawlessly."

The threat of '_or else'_ didn't need to be said. Evangeline stared at the arrangement of flowers and knew who had signed the card without even looking. Here was her sword of damocles looming before her in all of its rosy petaled flesh.

Her mother swept out of the room as quickly as she'd entered.

Evangeline felt drained of all hope as she stared at the mix of flowers. Roses, lilies, sweet pea, and peonies. It was a stunning arrangement of pale pink and bridal white. The cloying, sweet scent of lilies filled her nostrils until her head had begun to pound something fierce.

"Evangeline," Erik whispered. She turned towards him, but her eyes never left the bouquet. They couldn't. She was like a soldier on a battlefield who saw that glint of sun on metal in the not-so-far-off horizon and knew that death had come at last.

"You're as pale as if you've seen a ghost," he murmured as his hand shifted over the keys until his pinky brushed hers. With her mother so close by she supposed that this little touch was as daring and bold as Erik could realistically act. "I've never seen a bouquet cause such a fright. You should tell Jonathan that you dislike his arranging skills," he tried to joke.

"They are not from Jonathan," she heard herself answer softly, but she was unaware of speaking even as she knew she must have done so.

She blamed the lilies. Those damned, heady blooms. She hated them. And her mother knew that very well. They were funeral flowers. But then wasn't that fitting, actually? Because she knew that if she opened that card whose name she'd see on that letter. Viscount Cobham. Her mother's ultimate trump card. She's lost not only the most recent battle, but she may have just cost herself the war as well. _I can't… I won't_.

Evangeline took a deep shuddering breath and realized her mistake too late as the potent fragrance of lilies flooded her nose, her tongue, her mind. She could taste them. Her chest felt tight and suddenly she couldn't get enough air.

Evangeline clawed at her throat in futility just as the wheezing started. The sound of her body's distress created a cascade that let that dammed up panic finally swell and burst forth in crashing waves. Erik's imminent departure, her upcoming nuptials, that damned needlepoint that had seemed like such a good jab at her mother four months ago but had potentially ruined everything now because she'd been too distracted and careless to realize her mistake until it was too late and she'd pricked her stupid finger.

Dimly she was aware of Erik, sitting beside her, calling out her name first, and then singing to her in that siren's voice of his. But she didn't have the breath left to answer him. She sucked and sucked and sucked for air but it was like trying to drink thick honey through a thin glass straw. The edges of her vision dimmed and her ears were filled with the sound of her awful, ragged, constricted breathing until that sound eclipsed even Erik's lovely voice and she could barely hear him at all.

All she could do now was fail to breath and taste lilies on her tongue. Their terrible cloying scent clung to her and filled her until there was nothing else left. There was no air in her lungs now, just the smell of lilies as they drowned her.

And perhaps this was best anyways, she thought vaguely as her head grew lighter and spots danced behind her eyes and she swayed where she sat on the piano bench listening vaguely to poor, distraught Erik who sounded so desperate now as he tried in vain to call her back to him.

_Lilies_. She tried to tell him but couldn't find the breath necessary to create even one sound beyond a frog-like croak. Her head felt heavy now. Those awful, fragrant lilies with their potent yellow pollen and their cloying, invasive scent that had triggered her lung constriction. _Asthma. What a stupid way to die._

Evangeline was vaguely cognizant of Erik's hands ripping at the back of her dress. Fabric tore and pearl buttons pinged and skittered across the tiled floor. And she heard all of this through the deafening whooshing sound that was pounding between her ears. Suddenly she was reminded of holding a conch shell up to her ear one day when she was a little girl playing on a sandy ocean shore one summer. She'd heard that same sound that time as well. It was her heartbeat, her father had told her later. And that seemed so marvelous to a six year old child. That you could pick up a shell and hold it to your ear and hear your heart. It was magic, she'd declared, until her father had gently corrected her and told that no, it was science. She heard it now and realized on some level that her heart's rapid pace was slowing… a faltering tempo like a drummer who'd lost their place in the music.

Her head felt heavy so she let it drop towards Erik and that felt better now in some way that was also confusing. She wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep. Breathing was such demanding work and she was very tired.

Erik had ripped his way through her dress and she felt tugging on the lacings of her corset at her back. The desire to tell him that the long ties had been wrapped around her waist into a knotted bow at her front floated to the front of her thoughts before those words sank back down along with everything else. The black tinge grew along the edges of her vision swallowing up everything before her. Everything but that damned vase full of noxious lilies.

He must have followed the line of her vision because his arm moved away from her back and swept out. The crystal vase shattered on the floor. She heard the sound of it crashing and splintering into pieces. Her limbs felt so heavy. The glint of sunlight on the metal of the knife in Erik's hand was the last thing that she saw before the darkness swallowed everything and she collapsed into death's embrace.

* * *

The sound of screaming roused her which was confusing because Evangeline had thought for sure that she'd died. She'd been quite certain of it, actually. But there was screaming and shouting and it was alright, even if it was confusing, because Erik's arms were holding her tightly to his chest as if he loved her. His long spidery fingers were stroking through her hair just like her father used to do when she was a little girl before hair pins and bustles had ruined her childhood. Her face was pressed against the hollow of Erik's throat and despite the chaos of the people screaming in the room she tuned them out and found the steady thumping of his heartbeat. She sighed against that small strip of exposed skin of his neck as her eyes slid shut into peaceful oblivion.

* * *

Some unknown amount of time later Evangeline woke up and found that she'd been put to bed. Afternoon sunlight filtered it's soft light into the room. She sat up and saw the worried expression of her maid.

"Mademoiselle! Oh! I must go and tell your mother that you are awake!" Celeste cried out as she sprang up from her chair.

Evangeline placed a warding hand against the pain in her head as if touch alone could ease it.

"What happened?" she croaked. "Water, please," she ordered gently in a voice hoarse with disuse.

Celeste's beeline for the door turned on an angle quickly as she changed direction for the pitcher of boiled water that they kept for the toilette. The maid poured some into a cup (spilling half of it on the floor in the process) before finally crossing the room and handing it to Evangeline with trembling hands.

Evangeline drank and thought that she'd never tasted something so amazing. When her throat felt slick enough for speech again she set the cup aside and tried again.

"What happened?"

Celeste began to wring her hands as she paced the room before suddenly collapsing on the side of the bed. "Oh _mademoiselle_ it was terrible! Housekeeper came to the music room to direct the footman on moving the piano so that they could place more chairs into the room for the recital. She said that she found your tutor standing over your prone body with a knife! He'd cut your clothing from your body and was seen looming over you all threatening like. Housekeeper said he must have done all sorts of wicked things to you for you to have gone into such a dead faint!"

Evangeline felt the blood drain from her face as she leaned weakly back against her mountain of pillows. Her head felt sluggish and her memories fuzzy as if veiled by a fog. She remembered sitting at the piano with Erik. She remembered the feelings of devastating grief and anxiety. But then there was nothing concrete. The feeling of her clothes loosening, a flash of a memory of white blossoms, the sound of glass breaking. She rubbed a hand against her face as if that would clear away the confusion.

"Erik wouldn't…" she insisted.

Celeste merely shook her head with a pitying look.

"Oh, but I shouldn't trouble you, _mademoiselle_. You need your rest, the doctor says. The guests have nearly all gone back home. The recital was cancelled, under the circumstances. But don't you worry about that now. You just rest. I shall fetch you a tea tray. You must be famished."

Evangeline ran fingers through her hair until they caught on a snarl as she tried to make sense of it all through her hazy fog.

Celeste bustled herself out of the room and left Evangeline alone to the deafening silence of her thoughts. Voices from the other side of the door filtered through the crack under the door but were too faint to be understood.

She remembered gentle hands cupping her face. She remembered the sound of Erik's siren song. She remembered playing her recital piece and feeling an immense and overwhelming sensation of grief. She did not remember being raped or assaulted at knifepoint. And anyways she never for a moment believed that Erik would do such a thing to her. Not when he'd had every opportunity in the library and had respected her wishes instead. Indeed, the very idea with preposterous. So then why couldn't she remember more than fragments?

Evangeline tore the sheets down and catalogued herself. There was no swollen knot hidden in her hair. No scraped palms or skinned knees. No aches or pains of any sort other than the incessant pounding in her head and the dryness of her mouth and throat. Indeed there seemed not to be much of anything wrong with her at all. Gingerly she swung her feet out of bed and onto the plush floor rug and had to battle with the wave of nauseating vertigo that followed. Her head felt drugged and thick.

The door opened and she looked up to see her brother slip inside and shut the door swiftly behind him.

Evangeline let out a sigh of relief. "Oh Freddie, thank goodness. What happened?"

"You mean you really don't remember?" Freddie asked with a dubious expression while he crossed the room to sit in the same place that Celeste had occupied.

She tucked her legs back into bed underneath the blankets and leaned back against the pillows' support. The room's spinning slowed and the queasy feeling in her stomach faded.

"It's an absolute terrible mess, Eva. Housekeeper fainted after screaming bloody murder and had to be revived with the smelling salts. The maids who came running said she screamed herself as red as one of cook's prize heirloom tomatoes before she collapsed. It took butler and two footman to carry her down the back stairs. Your lover's been run off. I was only just able to keep father from calling the constables after him. Mother was absolutely apoplectic. She's shut herself into her room and is refusing everyone except the doctor and her maid. Even father has barricaded himself in his office and will see no one. The guests have all hied off for the most part. It's really all quite mucked up, dove."

Evangeline sighed and tried to rub the weariness from her eyes.

"Which guests remained?" she inquired.

Freddie ran fingers through his tossled, messy hair. "Jonathan and Georgiana remained, of course. A few others who intend to depart in the morning. Blackheart was the first to go, you'll be glad to know. The bloody coward. And once he was gone the others followed quickly for the most part. So at least some good has come of this."

So the recital and the husband hunt were off. But Jonathan was still here. And perhaps his offer would still stand, despite this new scandal. Maybe all wasn't lost.

"So he's gone? Back to Italy? I never even got to say goodbye," she heard herself whisper. Tears welled up but Evangeline held them back through sheer will power. If she started she feared she'd never stop.

"What happened, love?" Freddie probed.

The door opened and Celeste came in with a precariously balanced tea tray. Freddie and Evangeline both turned to watch her entry.

The bud vase of white roses that decorated the tea tray made all those jagged, murky pieces fit back into place and knit together into memory.

"The flowers…" Evangeline muttered softly as Celeste set the tray up within easy reach.

"What's that, _mademoiselle_?" Celeste asked as she stirred a lump of sugar into the cup of tea and poured in a splash of cream.

Evangeline took the proffered cup of tea dutifully and stared down into the comforting milky brown liquid as she contemplated. "There were flowers. Lilies. God, how I hate lilies. They always set off my spells…"

And the rest of it clicked into place. The asthma attack. The lilies mixed into the bouquet. Erik's panicked song. He'd tried to bring her back around to him. The knife must have been some desperate attempt to loosen her stays to make her strangled breathing easier.

Evangeline brought the cup of tea to her mouth, her thoughts still churning, but set it aside untasted.

"Mother…" she murmured mostly to herself. Her eyes rose and caught Freddie's troubled gaze and they shared one of those moments of perfect, silent communication that only twins and old married couples seemed to have.

"Do you wish me to have her rung for, _mademoiselle_? She gave orders to not be disturbed. But surely it would bolster her spirits to know that you are better," Celeste offered.

Mother had brought her a bouquet of lilies that had triggered her attack. But to what end? Was this just an accident, another of her needling jabs that went too far, or something more?

"No that isn't necessary. But thank you. It must have been quite a shock and she will need her rest to recover," Evangeline lied.

Celeste seemed mollified and nodded as she tucked the bed covers more firmly into place.

"Drink your tea, _mademoiselle_, your face is far too pale for my liking."

Evangeline swallowed and realized that she was parched. She raised the cup and took a small sip. It took everything she had not to spit it back out into the cup. But the familiar bitter taste of laudanum was as unmistakable as it was unforgettable.

She raised the cup and faked a second sip under Celeste's watchful eye then set the cup down on the tray.

"Celeste, I find that I am quite famished after all. Do you think that cook could prepare something? I think that I must have missed the luncheon."

Celeste nodded and looked pleased. "Of course, _mademoiselle_. I will fetch a tray at once."

When Celeste left and Evangeline was certain that she and Freddie were alone once more she rose from the bed and carried her cup of doped up tea over to her window.

"What are you doing?" Freddie asked in a curious voice as she cracked the window open and threw the contents of her cup outside.

"It's laced. Mother wants me unconscious and I'm not certain why, but I am not at all predisposed to cooperating."

Freddie sighed and it was the sound of bitter defeat. "Better dump the whole pot then. I doubt mother would have had them doctor up just the one cup."

Evangeline nodded and crossed the room again to do just that. She dumped the teapot's contents too then set it all back onto the tray. She plopped a sugar cube onto her tongue to rid herself of that awful lingering taste as she climbed back into bed, then promptly spat it right back out again. So it was out into the bushes with that, too. The cool breeze from the window was helping to clear the cobwebs from her mind. The sun was slowly setting now in the horizon. So it was later than she'd initially thought. She had missed dinner and perhaps supper as well as luncheon. It was a pity that the supper tray probably wouldn't be safe for consumption either. Not if she wished to remain in full use of her faculties. She was actually rather hungry.

"So he's gone?" she asked without turning to look at Freddie as she stared out the window and watched the sinking sun.

"Yes and no," Freddie answered vaguely as he rubbed his face and sighed.

Evangeline glanced back at him as the first feelings of hope blossomed in her like a fragile seedling sprouting tender young leaves.

"Yes or no?" she asked in a voice thick with carefully restrained emotion.

"He's at the public house in Aylsebury. The White Hart. There weren't any carriages to London tonight and the broken cart he came with had not yet been repaired. He leaves at dawn."

Evangeline turned to look back out the window at the setting sun and nodded as the ideas of a plan began to form. "Freddie, I need your help."

Freddie groaned and slapped his hands over his face. "No. No! No more schemes. No more maneuvering the pieces on the board. It's done. It's over, Eva. Let it go! Let him go before things get any worse."

Let it go? Let him go back to Italy without a goodbye? Let Mother win? Before things got worse? How could it possibly get any worse than this? Evangeline shook her head. She couldn't let it go. She wouldn't. She stepped forward into the room towards the bed where he still sat.

"I love him," she whispered in a timid voice as if afraid that being overheard would make it all more real. "Freddie, please. I have to say goodbye. How can I let it end this way? He saved my life. Let me at least say goodbye to him. And then I will go off and marry Jonathan and live quietly in some country manor for the rest of my days. But give me this one night to make things right. Please."

Freddie stared at her, face grim and his jaw set into a stubborn expression before he finally relented with wildly flailing hands. "Alright. Stop staring at me with those sad puppy eyes, I relent. Now... what do you need from me?"

Evangeline moved closer to him and grasped one of his hands to give it a little squeeze. Whether it was to reassure him or thank him neither of them knew. Perhaps it was a little of both. "First things first, I will need a pair of trousers."


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Author's note:** Unedited chapters can be found on A O X3 under the same title.

* * *

Erik let the heavy lid of the steamer trunk drop back down as he shut its contents away from view. Everything was all accounted for which was miraculous enough to be almost unbelievable. All of his belongings including the folios of sheet music, the spare masks, his hidden compartment of money and forged travel documents were all there and accounted for. Freddie had been surprisingly true to his word. Erik's possessions had been delivered to him unscathed. And there were no police officers lurking in the shadows to accost him either. Initially he'd intended to flee from this place before his employers could change their minds and make their move against him. He'd fled and run from angry mobs countless times before. After all, what were some scraps of paper and a few pieces of clothing compared to his freedom? Nothing. Replaceable. He'd had to leave everything behind before and start over from scratch more times than he could bear to recall.

But running and fleeing and lurking had become so utterly tiresome. He was, quite frankly, too old for it now. There was no excitement to be found in eluding those who would chase him down like dogs who had run a fox to the ground. There was no pride in staying two steps ahead and dodging fools through his cunning and carefully honed instincts. There was no longer a thrill left in being smarter, faster, or more ruthless in his seemingly never ending flight from place to place.

Despair swelled up and threatened to consume his every waking thought.

And he felt that he was always fleeing: the gypsy camp after being accused of a rape he'd never committed, Italy after Luciana's unfortunate and his guilt over her accidental death, the bloodthirsty Khanum and her imbecile Shah in Persia, and then of course there was Paris and Christine. He seemed to be always running, fleeing, hiding. Wanted nowhere. Welcomed by none. Misunderstood by everyone. Hunted. Chased. Pursued.

Was it really any surprise that he'd learned to become the monster that they'd all insisted that he was? What a tarnished soul he must have been born with for everything to always end this way for him. His thoughts turned, as they always did in times like this, to his mother. That sore, festering wound (worse even than his ruined face) that he carried with him to every new beginning that he ran to. It poisoned everything in his life.

Erik stepped away from the window and sighed as he began to pace the room in an attempt to let off the building, nervous energy that whispered in the back of his mind. _Run. Hide. Get Away._

_Oh, Evangeline._ It had all gone so utterly wrong.

He tore the mask from his face and threw it onto the bed then pressed long, skeletal fingers into the red, warped ruins of his hideous face.

Damn those flowers. Damn that screaming housekeeper. And most of all damn them all for looking at Erik and seeing a monster instead of the man who'd quite literally just saved Evangeline's life. _And most of all, damn me for hoping that things would end a little differently this time… just once._

Erik scrubbed his hands over his face and was startled by the sound of knocking at his door.

The innkeeper with his evening meal? Or gendarmes come to haul him off to gaol after all? The itch to leave it all behind and climb out through the window swelled until he stamped it right back down with a dejected sigh. He hadn't even heard the soft footsteps of someone's approach. He really was getting too old for this.

Erik grabbed his mask from the bed and fitted it quickly into place with practiced movements that had become as second nature as breathing.

"Leave the tray outside the door and go," he called out loudly enough to be heard out in the hall.

The sounds of a person shifting their weight from foot to foot on creaking boards in the hall answered him, and then after three seconds of silence there was another timid knock.

Not gendarmes, then. And the proprietor had already been paid in advance for the room and the meal and thus had no legitimate reason to disturb his privacy if supper wasn't what had brought them upstairs.

"I am not in need of any services beyond my supper, which is to be left outside the door as I have already instructed. Good night," he called out sternly in a voice that brooked no argument. His fingers felt for the familiar weight of the punjab lasso at his left wrist. He might be tired of running but he was not so beaten down that he would be an easy target, either. Erik would not be the feather in some fat English Sheriff's cap.

"Erik, open the door," a woman's soft voice, one so familiar to him now, called out through the door. _Evangeline_. It couldn't be. This was impossible. But it was her.

Erik strode swiftly to the door, paused only to reassure himself that his mask was firmly in place once more and his hair wasn't a disheveled wreck, then unlocked and swung the door open before he could reconsider it for another moment.

A youth in plain men's clothing with a hat slung low over their brow pushed through the crack in the door and shut it quickly behind them.

Erik's grasping fingers pulled the cap from her head and watched in dumbfounded shock as her glorious long golden tresses spilled freely down around her back. Erik cupped a hand along her jaw. He needed to feel her to know that she was real. His thumb found the steady thrumming pulse in her neck as his fingers wrapped themselves behind her ear. Its steady, healthy rhythm was reassuring. She was truly here. She'd come to him. Dangerous beautiful hope unfurled inside his empty breast like the first tender leaves of a delicate sprouting flower.

"Eva," he whispered, afraid that a louder voice would make this beautiful phantom disappear back into the dark shadows of the night.

She smiled wryly and a little sadly up at him and stepped closer into the hollow of his body. Her hand came up to lightly rest against his chest. "Did you really think that I would let you go without saying goodbye?" she asked with a smile that didn't quite touch her eyes.

Erik started to speak a thousand times. His lips parted again and again, but no sound would pour forth. His mind raced. She'd come to him. "Are you well?" he settled on finally, then cringed. How could he possible relay the depths of his horror when he'd seen her breath starved and fading in his arms just hours before? And here she stood, as hale and hearty and rosy cheeked as she'd been just yesterday. It was more than he could have ever asked for. It was more than he'd ever expected.

Her eyes softened then as she reached with her free hand to settle her bag from her shoulder onto the floor by their feet, then twined those same arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

"Kiss me and see for yourself," she replied with a smile that was sincere.

Evangeline pulled him down by his neck until Erik dutifully dipped his mouth to hers. Mouth slack with equal parts of surprise and timidity he let her kiss him until her nibbling of his lower lip pushed all other thoughts from his mind. She was here, and that was all that mattered. She'd come for him. And not to press a ring into his hand with sad eyes and a _no_ on her lips. Erik cradled the back of her head as he held her flush against him and let the other hand wander down her shoulders to the back of her waist. He pulled her flush until she molded against him. Each delicious curve of her body pressed against his as if she'd been poured and cast in bronze to stand in his arms just like this.

Their tongues intertwined and she arched against him and sighed against his mouth at the first caress.

And then it was her hands that were roaming and exploring him. Fingers slipped inside his open shirt and brushed against the fine dusting of hairs along his chest. A shudder wracked his frame as she tugged and pulled his shirt free from his breeches. Erik let his hands glide down her back until he'd grabbed her by the backside to pull her even closer still. It wasn't enough and it would never be enough. Evangeline's passion had ignited his own like spreading wildfire and together they would burn. He kneaded the flesh of her ample backside and delighted in the moans that poured forth and were swallowed by their kiss. Her hips bumped against his and ground against him while her fingers clumsily worked at the buttons on his shirt.

Erik let her go to catch her roaming hand as he pulled free from her. He raised her bruised and tender knuckles to his mouth then caught her eyes.

"Are you certain?" he asked with no small amount of trepidation. They were very nearly at the point of no return. Already he was swollen with the proof of his desire for her.

Of all the possible scenarios that he'd imagined when he had opened that door this had not been one of them. His body felt like a wire that had been wound taut and he thrummed with their tension.

"Erik, I have never been more certain of a single thing in all of my life," she told him as she placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart.

He searched her eyes and saw the truth of her words. Erik nodded and let his fingers drop to the buttons of his shirt. He undid them quickly, then shed himself of it and let the fabric drop forgotten to the floor.

Evangeline's trembling hands rose up to do the same to her own borrowed clothing. Erik dipped his head and captured her mouth once again while he helped her shed her ill fitting disguise. Clothing was haphazardly thrown and lay crumpled and forgotten on the floor as Erik exposed inch by creamy inch of his beloved's perfect skin. Their tongues danced as his fingers stroked each new inch of bared flesh. He learned the contour of her lower back and found the dimples just above her buttocks. She shuddered against him whenever he ran fingers lightly down the backs of her thighs and along that sensitive strip of skin where bottom meets leg. That lovely area that he'd reddened and welted with his hand when he'd spanked her to orgasm in the library. His thumb ghosted lightly along her inner thighs and folds and caught a bead of moisture as he pushed the loose trousers down her legs. One could lie with words or actions but the body's response to desire could not be artificed. She wanted him. For whatever reason, good or ill, but she did and he'd delight in it and not ask why.

And all the while she was exploring him as well. Her delicate fingers traced the outlines of his abs and brushed against the sensitive strip of skin at his sides. His chest heaved with effort as her wandering touch electrified his senses. Had anyone ever touched him like this before? So delicately as if they were afraid to hurt him? So lightly as if he were made of porcelain? Hands skimmed over his navel then dipped lower and pulled and tugged at the lacing of his breeches and then his erection was bobbing free between them as his pants were shed and quickly kicked away.

Evangeline toed her too large boots off and kicked free of the rest of her borrowed garments. Erik broke the kiss and pulled away so that he could see her at last in all of her naked glory.

Golden hair spilled around her creamy shoulders like an angel's halo. And there she stood before him like aphrodite herself rising from the ocean mist in an abalone shell. He'd never seen something so beautiful before. Rose tipped breasts, the creamy flat expanse of her soft stomach, and the thatch of golden curls between her thighs that kept her feminine secrets hidden from his casual view. She bit her lip as a rosy blush stained across her cheeks with each passing second of his perusal.

"You are so beautiful," he sighed as he reached out to touch her. She shivered in his arms and twined her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer and edged her backwards towards the bed.

"I'm yours tonight, Erik, and you are mine," Evangeline breathed as he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up onto the narrow bed.

Quickly Erik turned and crossed the room again to lock and bar the door and when he turned back around he watched her as she settled back against the pillows.

"I wish that I could paint you as you are now so that I may carry this perfect image with me forever," he moaned as he swelled with desire to the point of aching.

A bead of fluid dripped from the tip of him and smeared against his thigh as he prowled towards her. Each step to the bed where she laid waiting for him was a delicious agony of restraint. Evangeline smiled coyly up at him and fluttered her lashes teasingly as she arranged her hair to cover her breasts.

"I hope that you mean to do more to me than simply look, my good _monsieur_," she teased.

In reply Erik grabbed her ankle and dragged her leg open. The sight of the slick pink lips of her sex peeking through golden curls was very nearly his undoing. He slid teasing fingers up her calf, past the sensitive skin of the back of her knee, up her soft thigh, then dipped into the hollow of her hip. He touched and tantalized her everywhere but in the spot he craved to touch the most. His other hand dipped down to tease himself as well. As he brushed the leaking tip of his erection he also let his fingers graze her dewy center.

Her sigh and the arching of her neck was his reward as his thumb sluiced between her folds and found that spot that always seemed to bring her the most pleasure. Tugging himself slowly he worked his fingers down to her core, One hand's movements mimicked the other's as he spread her open and felt her begin to swell and plump with pleasure. Her eyelids fluttered but her gaze never left his as he hooked his fingers inside of her and stroked her until her breathing grew ragged and quick.

Erik's eyes never left her face as her eyelids dropped half shuttered and her rosy lips slackened with her panting breath as he worked her and brought her to that edge where pain and pleasure get muddled. He spread the pearling drop of fluid around the sensitive tip of him as he added a second finger inside of her, palm grinding against the top of her as his fingers prepared her for what was next.

Her hips began to rock as her breathing turned more ragged. She looked so beautiful like this, spread legged and flushed with pleasure with her hands fisted in the sheets and her head thrown back in lost abandon while his fingers probed and readied and teased her towards her breaking point.

Just before she could shatter against that familiar cliff of pleasure Erik joined her on the bed and positioned himself between her spread legs. The burning need to bury himself inside of her and feel her spasm around him could not be ignored any longer.

With himself positioned at her entrance he wrapped one hand around the flare of her hip as his other thumb continued his assault on her. With everything fitted into place Erik grabbed her hip and thrust himself inside of her.

His burst of pleasure at fitting himself into her warm slick opening was broken by Evangeline's startled yelp as her knees locked up around either side of him and her eyes flew open.

Erik gritted his teeth as he fought for control to stop his body from thrusting again.

"Are you harmed?" he asked her tentatively as his eyes sought hers for reassurance.

Evangeline reached up and threaded her arms underneath his. "It was more startling than painful, really. The moment passes. Being forewarned still does not really prepare you for it I suppose," she explained with a chagrined expression.

Erik settled his weight on one forearm as his other hand brushed a curl of hair from her forehead and cupped her cheek. His body burned to shift, to move, to thrust. But he was not the monster that everyone supposed him to be. Instead he focused on the sensations of their joined body as he gave her a moment to adjust. And then her hips twitched and he was lost in it. His body jerked of its own accord and instead of screaming out she moaned as he pulled halfway free of her then fitted them together again.

Something unknown that had been chained up inside of him was unfettered now. As her hips moved against him so did he until they'd found their rhythm. Erik lowered his head into the hollow between her shoulder and neck as his knees adjusted, found purchase, and their bodies began to sing. Their breathing grew ragged and loud together as he pistoned in and out of her. Then Eva's leg hiked up and hooked around him and the change in angle drew a groan from deep within him as he hit an even deeper place inside of her. She was so hot and wet and their bodies made filthy noises as they joined together.

"Oh my God Erik don't stop," Eva groaned between pants.

Instinct took over as he leaned back and grabbed her legs and wrapped those lithe limbs around him. He folded her nearly in half as he sought his pleasure, their skin slapping together as he pumped into the deepest parts of her. His fingers dug into her soft thighs as he held her firmly in place and slammed home as she squeezed him. Head thrown back in abandon now he thrust until that familiar tightening feeling crawled up his spine and his groin tightened with anticipation.

"Oh my God… right there… I'm so close…" she whimpered as she fisted the sheets underneath them.

Erik grabbed one bouncing breast and squeezed that rose tipped peak then replaced it with his mouth and let his hand wander down her body until it found where they were joined. He nibbled the skin along her chest and neck and sucked and bit at her softness. His thumb brushed against that sensitive place between her thighs as his hips kept up their frenzied tempo. He rubbed her wildly and roughly like he knew she liked until her back arched and her chest flushed as her walls squeezed him tight. And then she'd tipped over and he could feel the little fluttering twitches and spasms as she squeezed him and it was his undoing. He managed four more deep thrusts inside of her before he followed her over that precipice and found his own release. Hot ropey spurts of cum filled her still quivering cunt as he buried himself to the hilt of her and thrust gently through his own orgasm. And then they laid sweaty, tired, and spent as he let his weight settle on his forearms on either side of her head.

Eva craned her face up towards his and captured his mouth in a tender kiss between shuddering breaths as she twined her arms around him and pulled him down to her.

Throwing his weight to one side Erik collapsed against her side in a tangle of limbs, his soft member pulled free from her and twitching against his thigh as they settled in the bed. He pressed the masked side of his face into the pillow and glanced at her through heavy lidded eyes. Eva smiled and nestled deeper into him with a contented sigh.

"I am glad that you came," he said breaking the silence that had grown between them.

She opened her eyes and smiled impishly at him. "I always cum with you, Erik, you have rather magnificent fingers. It has to be all of that piano playing."

He laughed and pulled her closer to him then smacked her playfully on the ass while pressing a tender kiss to her throat. "That isn't what I meant and you know it. Here I am trying to have a heartfelt moment with you and you have turned it into a tawdry double entendre," he chided.

"It's a talent that I am rather proud of," she joked as she threw an arm around his shoulders and her fingers reached up to twine through his hair.

Her nail caught for just a moment on the thin nearly invisible wire that kept his mask in place and self consciousness and doubt fell over him again like a shadow.

"Are you not curious?" he asked her suddenly. He hadn't meant to ask. He had no wish to spoil this tender perfect moment. But his lips moved of their own accord and now the words couldn't be unspoken. That dark, vile, shadowy thought had bubbled to the surface before it could be swallowed back down once more.

Her fingers stopped tracing invisible patterns on his scalp. "About the mask you mean?" she clarified.

But of course it was about the mask. It always was. His disfigurement was the real phantom that haunted him and kept him from any semblance of a normal life.

"You have never once asked me to take it off," he added.

Eva stiffened in his arms and Erik's heart sank back down into the muck and mire of his chest. He clenched his jaw and steeled himself for her response as she pulled away to look at him.

"I just assumed that… that you did not wish for me to look," she answered in a timid sounding voice.

He rolled away from her onto his back to gain a little distance, as if distance would bring with it some clarity.

"Still, you must be curious," he insisted.

His thoughts drifted to the gypsies, Luciana, to the children who had followed his traveling magician's show, then to the Shah and his devilish court. Joseph Bouquet had been obsessed with hunting him down and unmasking him. Even Christine had unmasked him twice.

"Everyone wants to peer beneath the mask and see the beast. Why should you be different?" he rationalized aloud.

He would show her. He'd just decided it right that moment. So that she did not have to ask. So that prying fingers did not lift the mask away one moment in a fit of action. He could at least spare her that indignity after what they'd just shared.

Eva was silent for a moment and then one minute stretched into another and eventually she'd pulled away from him completely and had risen from the bed. Erik studied the tense lines of her back and shoulders, then watched as she bent down to casually retrieve her discarded clothing from the floor.

The silence in the room was both deafening and frightening.

He watched in quiet trepidation as Eva grabbed a wash rag from the basin of clean water on the shabby little dresser and cleaned between her legs before she stepped back into her borrowed britches. She tossed the used rag aside. Once she'd pulled the shirt over her head and pulled her hair through the collar she turned to face him with a stony and impassive face. Her own mask, the mask of the haughty debutante, was fitted snugly back into place on her face.

"Well I suppose that I should be on my way then before my absence is noted," she responded airily as if he'd just said that it looked like rain today. Then she bent down to pull on her pilfered socks and boots.

Erik rose from the bed and crossed the room to the dresser to clean and dress himself as well. He grabbed the wet rag then peered at it in confusion when he spied the rusty stains on it.

"You are bleeding? Were you hurt? Why did you not tell me that I had injured you?" he questioned her.

She merely tucked her shirt into her trousers and shrugged the old worn coat back on.

"It is of no consequence. These things do happen," she asserted cooly.

He cleaned himself then stepped into his own trousers, eager for the familiar comfort of clothing to mask his naked vulnerability in this moment and its awkwardness.

"Eva…" he started and then stopped, unsure of what to say and how to express himself. He wished that he could take it back. Just reel the words back in and shove them back down. There was no need to do this now. If she didn't want to look then he'd never force her. He wished that they could go back to the happy moment on the bed when she'd lain comfortably in his arms. Because now it felt as if she was already a thousand miles away from him.

_Come with me. Stay by my side and we can go anywhere you wish. Just let me follow you and your wish is my command._

She smiled up at him but it looked hollow and false and Erik reeled back from her as if she'd slapped him instead.

"Good bye, Erik. Safe travels and fair weather," she added with a polite tip of her head as she tucked her hair back up into her cap then quickly unlocked the door and slipped through it.

Quick stead footsteps sounded down the creaky hallway and staircase and then faded as the door slowly swung itself closed behind her.

_She's gone. _She'd come and taken what she wanted. She'd bedded the beast and then left. She was probably laughing about it… at him… as she walked down those tavern stairs. She'd deluded him so skillfully… made him think she truly wanted him… then left. _They always leave._

One swift brush of his arms and everything that had been on the little desk went crashing to the ground. The porcelain wash basin shattered against the wall and water splashed all over until it had soaked the aged peeling wallpaper and seeped through cracks in the worn floorboards. The candle snapped in half and rolled free of its candle holder when it hit the wall. The flame snuffed out and he was once again plunged into the darkness of his isolated despair.

Hot tracks of tears carved rolled down his scarred and lumpy cheek and itched beneath the mask. Erik ripped the cursed vile thing from his face and threw it violently across the room as he sank down onto the floor, fisted his hands in his hair, and sobbed.


	41. Chapter Forty

**Author's Note:** To avoid ruining the suspense I will simply say that this chapter has the potential to be triggering. Please read it cautiously. You may skip to the end for a tl;dr.

* * *

Evangeline had tried to allow herself only the short ride home to feel sorry for herself. But then she'd found that once she gave into those feelings of despair that there was no amount of bootstrap pulling in the world that could get her out of her wallowing.

Erik's words replayed themselves like a loop in her head.

_Why should you be different? _

Those words had felt like a knife had carved out her heart and left her chest an empty bloody cavity. How could he have, after all this time and all that they had shared, still not seen the real her? Did he really, after all their time together, still think of her as some vapid, shallow thing? How could he not understand the depths of her feelings?

_It doesn't matter. He is leaving… like he has always said he would… and why should he stay? He has a life to return to in Italy. And it clearly doesn't include you._

Evangeline bit her quivering lip and roughly wiped the tears off her face. Apollo, thankfully, knew the way home and needed no direction. One shod hoof stepped in front of the other as he carried her back to her prison of a home.

_Why should you be different?_

She cringed and tried to focus on her breathing. She counted to twenty and took great deep breaths but the sobs made it difficult and the tears would not cease. It was silly, really. So what that they'd made love and then he'd been crude after he'd finally gotten what he wanted from her? Perhaps this way was even better. Surely she'd pine for him less in his absence now. Her foolish heart could shrivel back down into her chest now that he'd shown that he wasn't really as different from the others as she'd thought.

_Why should you be different?_

A sob tore free from her as the tears renewed themselves and carved a track of pain down her face. Her eyes felt red and hot and itchy and she was glad that there was no one else on the narrow country path to see her being so bloody foolish over a stupid man. Moonlight guided their way but there was still enough shadow to afford a sense of privacy.

_Pull yourself together! You am not the sort of woman who moons over a foolish man like the heroine in some poorly written penny dreadful. _

But the tears wouldn't stop no matter how much she wished they would. They coursed down her face on the entire ride home. And then they'd turned onto the edge of the property and the barn loomed before them. Apollo, eager to find his bucket of oats and water and the familiar comfort of his straw lined stall steadfastly carried her forward.

Untacking her hose passed by in a blur of activity as Evangeline focused her energy on the task at hand. Unbuckled first, unsaddled next, then brushed and fed and watered… her body carried her through the familiar tasks from memory. She stroked a hand down Apollo's mane then buried her face into his velvety neck and breathed in his comforting smell. The horse shifted in place and Evangeline eventually let him go. He seemed eager for sleep and she was weary as well.

"Goodnight, Apollo," she thanked him then headed towards the big house.

Her eyes felt gritty and rough and her face was puffy from crying as Evangeline wiped the tracks of tears from her cheeks and grabbed hold of the ivy trellis that ran along the South side of the house. Crying never solved anything after all.

The trellis made for easy climbing and a convenient way up to the flat roof that topped the second best parlor which was conveniently just below her bedroom. Then it was a simple enough thing to climb through the bedroom window. Evangeline slid the window up and winced at it creaked and rattled as she worked it open. The blasted thing always wanted to stick in the summers. With one last good shove she'd managed to get it open all the way. Sitting down and swinging in was simple enough in trousers and without the constraint of a corset.

_Thank God for Freddie's old clothes. I just wish that I could wear them constantly. They're damned convenient._

Her room was dark and silent. Evangeline made quick work of shutting the window. But as she turned around to feel her way to the bed the distinctive sound of a match being struck and the tiny sputter and flare of a flame could be heard.

She turned and spied her mother sitting on her bed holding the small flickering flame to the wick of an oil lamp. The old woman calmly placed the glass chimney in place and set the lamp on the nightstand with a fearsome expression on her face.

"Well now…" her mother began, "I would ask you what it is that you think that you are doing up and about outside in _that_ outfit at _this_ ungodly hour of the morning but I think that it is very clear that you were being quite improper."

"What are you doing here, mother?" Evangeline evaded.

"Checking on you, of course. And I see that I was right to be concerned. I thought it very odd when Celeste said that you'd drunk your entire pot of tea. It was quite a lot of laudanum you know. I came to check that you were still breathing. I see now that there is simply no controlling you. Your continued defiance is unacceptable and will absolutely not be tolerated. For as long as you remain under this roof we expect you to act a certain way. Once you are married you may do as you please. Though I would suggest that you learn some circumspection and how to bite your tongue. Your future husband has a firm hand and good moral character from what I have heard. I am sure that your insolence will not be tolerated. Thank goodness that you will very soon not be our problem at all."

Evangeline's heart hammered in her chest as she turned to fully face her mother and tried to unstick her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth. She raised her chin and stared down at the uncaring woman with an equally icy expression.

"I am quite looking forward to becoming the mistress of my own house. And Jonathan's seaside home is stunning. I think that we shall have many a fine summer at the shore. A pity, then, that you do so hate the ocean or we would invite you to come and stay with us as our guests for the Summer," Evangeline snarked.

Her mother rose from the bed and closed the distance between them. Evangeline stood her ground and squared her shoulders. She was done with being cowed and bullied.

Her mother shook her head. "You should have drunk the tea, Evangeline. It would have been better that way."

The scoff escaped Evangeline before she could stifle it. "Better for you, you mean.

The smile that bloomed across her mother's face was disturbing.

"Oh, my dear, sweet, stupid child… did you really think that your father and I would let you disgrace the family name and be married off to a lowly Baron? No… oh my goodness, no. Spinsterhood would have been less insulting. Our ancestors were Plantagenets for God's sake. No, we have much higher plans for you. You'll be a Viscountess. And when you're older and wiser and he's beaten this impertinence from you, you will thank us for intervening and saving your from yourself," her mother condescended.

Evangeline rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared her mother down.

Her mother's eyes wandered her, then became furious. The woman lunged across the room and grabbed at the lapel of Evangeline's borrowed shirt.

"What are these marks?" the woman shrieked with widened, craze-filled eyes.

Her mother grabbed the edges of the shirt's collar and ripped it wide until the seams popped.

"You horrid little... You were out there… with… with some beast of a man, weren't you? Who was he? What is his name? You'll be lucky if the viscount even takes you now. You'd better hope that he doesn't hear rumors of your continued wilful, slattern ways," she seethed between clenched teeth.

And then something within Evangeline just snapped.

She'd quite simply taken as much as she possibly could. But tonight, after hear near-brush with death and then the rapture and subsequent fall in Erik's embrace she could take it no longer. She'd been changed somehow on a fundamental level. It was more than just giving the last of her innocence over to the man she loved. It was more than being initiated into the joys of the flesh and her awakening. She was different now. The old Evangeline had died and she found now that she could not be sorry for it. She might have loved and lost but damn it she had loved and there was a reassurance in that feeling that even through the pain she was not the one who was broken. It was everyone else with their twisted ideas who were dead already on the inside.

"I won't marry the Viscount and you can not make me!" Evangeline yelled.

Her mother arched a delicate brow and sneered down her nose. "You will. You will marry Sir Cobham or else I will pack you into a carriage and send you to the convent tomorrow at first light. Think long and hard on this my daughter. Are you really so stupidly proud that you would throw your life away just to annoy me? You will do as you are told if you know what is good for you."

Steel infused Evangeline's spine as she shook her head. "I will not and you can not force me. You can stuff me into a wedding dress and drag me to a church but you can not force me to say yes when the priest asks me for my consent to the union. I will say no. I will embarrass you and father in front of the entire congregation if that is what it takes to drive the point home into your narrow minded head."

The hand came down swiftly on Evangeline's cheek with no warning. Pain and heat bloomed across her face like a flower as her head snapped to the side from the impact of the slap and she was sent sprawling backwards into the windowsill. The tip of her tongue darted out and licked at the split that had cracked her lip open and Evangeline tasted blood. But the blow had the opposite effect on her than had probably been intended. Instead of cowing her into submission it boiled her rage down into something useful until she felt truly cold, calm, and collected. Like a diamond being formed from continuous heat and pressure bearing down on an innocuous looking lump of coal. And there was no stopping this transformation now that it had been started. That young girl who had always striven to please her mother with her accomplishments, and subsequently always fallen short no matter what she'd done, was well and truly gone.

"Did you ever love me?" Evangeline whispered. And she hated how weak and soft and vulnerable her voice sounded.

Her mother's reply was blunt and matter-of-fact. "How could I have? You made it nearly impossible. Even carrying you was so burdensome I thought I was dying. And then you had the audacity to be born first. When they told me you were a girl I wept. It meant I'd have to work all the harder for the next babe. And then Alfred came along a moment later and made it all right again. And did you ever thank him for smoothing over all your faults when you were little? No. You were always such a disappointment. You were a fussy baby… always crying. You never let me have a moment's peace. The nursemaids and governesses were always bringing you to me because you just would not stop crying. It was tiresome. Exhausting. You have never done as you were told. Every gown I ever gave you was dirtied. Ever stocking ripped and torn. You ran tutors and governesses out of this house like there was an unlimited supply of them. And then you stole your father's affections from me. God sent you to test me, of that I am absolutely certain. And I have borne you as best as any good Christian woman could but damnit Evangeline even I have my limits."

Evangeline tongued the split until the pain bloomed in her lip anew. She savored the pain because it was real and it made her feel real as well. There was an undeniable truth in it. "Hit me all you'd like, mother, but it will not change my answer. Shall I go and fetch a switch from the nearest tree so that you can beat me black and blue like you did when I was a little child? Would you like to lock me in the dark cellars again until I cry? I can wait for you to go and fetch some lentils for me to kneel on in the threshold, that was always your favorite punishment. No, I am done playing these games with you. You have my answer. I would rather die than marry the Viscount."

A vise like hand grabbed her by the arm as her mother hauled her forward, picked up the oil lamp, and dragged her from the room. The woman looked over her shoulder at Evangeline.

"Do not tempt me, my dear. That could always be arranged," the woman answered cruelly.

And down the dark and twisting hallways they went until they'd reached the library.

Being roughly shoved into the library and having the door swung shut behind her was confusing until Evangeline heard the clattering of metal on metal as a key was fitted into the door and the locking mechanism engaged. Too late her hands reached out to grip the edge of the door frame. Her nails bit into the wood and found the seam then wandered down until it touched cool brass. But the handle was useless and fixed. The bolt had been turned and it was well and truly locked. And the library had no other means of exit. It was part of the original house and as such had fallen into such a state of disrepair that its large lead paned windows no longer opened.

"You have three hours to change your mind Evangeline or, I swear to Christ our savior in heaven, at first light I will pack you into a carriage and drive you to the convent myself. But either way I will finally be rid of you," her mother spat.

Evangeline pressed her ear to the thick door but all she heard were her mother's fading footsteps.

Her eyes pricked with fresh hot tears as she turned and pressed her back to the door and slumped to the floor. It was hopeless. Everything had gone so utterly and terribly wrong. And was it any wonder? It seemed that all her life everything was always headed towards this moment.

_I will never be good enough. Nothing I ever do will make her love me._

A sob wracked her chest and she took in a shuddering breath as the sorrow and fear and panic began to settle deep into her bones.

The string holding the sword of Damocles at bay had been cut. Come dawn her life as she knew it was over.

She'd either be engaged to marry that old, fat, cruel man and be forced to bear the brunt of his roaming fingers and pinches and heavy petting, or she'd be stashed away in some country convent like a dirty secret shame. _Unloveable._

There was simply no tolerating an arranged marriage now that she knew what real love felt like. Not now that she'd known passion and had felt how a spark could kindle into a flame that made her burn as brightly as the stars. But the alternative was just as terrifying. She contemplated how she'd be forced into a nun's habit. The process, she knew, involved being completely shaved bald and striped naked to shame her then dressed in coarse linens and set to rough menial tasks meant to humble her and break her her spirit.

A laugh broke through her sobs at the thought of scrubbing out filthy chamber pots or scratching lines into the earth with a plow for planting seeds. What did she know of farming? Nothing. She felt useless. _You are useless. _Warm streams of tears fell down her cheeks as she cried until she had no moisture left to spare. Tears for Erik, for her mother's cruelty, but mostly for her ruined future. And then the tears had dried up and left her feeling hollow and empty and absolutely purposeless. _You should have never been born. You were a mistake._

Her head tilted back and hit the door as she shifted and took a deep cleansing breath.

And her first option? To marry that awful man? To bear his weight with silent humiliation as he rutted against her and filled her with child after child after child until one day the birthing process finally brought her the sweet release of death? Or perhaps, she thought, she'd die from pneumonia like some heartbroken character in a novel. Or there was always the possibility that she could jump to her death like the Viscounts latest wife just to get away from him.

The sound of rain pattered against the windows of the library and startled her from her gloomy, melancholic thoughts.

_It's going to be a terrible day for traveling._

And that thought made her laugh until the laughter turned to tears again and she found a little more moisture to shed for her dark fate.

After she'd cried herself out for the second time Evangeline sat on the floor and just felt sorry for herself. _Everyone will be better off without me._

She tipped her head back and let it bang against the locked library door as she cast her eyes about the room. Moonlight streamed through the bank of windows and cast eerie shadows. But the darkness had never frightened her.

_How unloveable I must be for my own mother to abhor my very existence from infancy. What flaw marred me at my birth and made it so? Was I tainted from the very start? Some dark smudge in my soul that only she could see? Or did she make it that way over the years? And if so, then why me? Why was I the one found wanting?_

And then she felt shame too in that moment of weakness for wishing that her mother had chosen one of her other siblings to bear the brunt of her terrible scorn and derision.

Evangeline's eyes adjusted to the lack of light and slowly began to pick out the outlines and contours of the room as she scanned it.

_I can't do this._

The spiral staircase seemed to call to her. Evangeline stood and picked her way across the moonlit floor as she headed towards the stairs that would carry her up. The moment her foot touched the first rung she felt a sense of peace settle over her for the first time in ages. It should have been frightening but she was far too numb to be disturbed by the sudden shift in mood. Emotion had been leached away along with her tears. There was nothing left but an emptiness that echoed inside of her as if she was a shut up room in an abandoned house.

_I can't… I won't._

Her hand gripped the railing tightly as her feet climbed the spiral stairs but she didn't stop at the third floor landing. Instead she kept going until she'd reached the cleverly hidden latch in the ceiling that allowed access to the roof and its widow's walk. The hinges were stuck with age and decay. How many years had it been since she and Freddie had hidden up there and scared one of the governess' silly? Too many to count. Evangeline was determined now. Her fingers became coated in grime and one nail caught and ripped but eventually the panel shifted just enough to afford her some leverage and then the hatch was open. Cold rain splattered her in the face as the summer rainstorm raged outside and Evangeline climbed out into the open air of the rooftop.

The wind whipped at her hair and picked at her clothing as she grabbed the rusted railing and hauled herself over the balustrade. She stood there for a moment as she carefully positioned her feet on the narrow ledge of the tiny flat roof and looked down at the ground far below. Arms threaded through the rail she stood there and gathered up her courage.

_It's just a step, really… maybe two. Just one foot in front of the other and then it's done._

Her heart hammered in her chest but she felt vaguely removed from her own fear. Rain dripped into her eyes and plastered her hair to her body. Her teeth worried at her lip and then she felt the metallic salty tang of blood on her tongue again.

Evangeline wondered if they would be sorry, then, once they found her body lying broken and bleeding amongst the roses in the morning.

Some wicked part of her delighted that perhaps her mother would be filled with regret once she was gone. There would be no wedding. She'd told her mother, after all, that she'd rather die than marry that viscount or Christ. And she had meant it. Evangeline alway skept her promises, after all.

The lump in her throat from choked off tears was difficult to swallow past. But Evangeline was done with crying. Tears were useless. It was only actions that mattered. She adjusted her grip on the railing and leaned forward.

_I'm sorry, Freddie._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Evangeline is very sad and then her mother is a real bitch. Evangeline decides to throw herself off the roof.


	42. Chapter Forty-One

Erik lifted his face from his hands and took a deep breath to clear his thoughts. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there on the floor in his misery. But when the rain had first started in earnest he'd groaned. It was as if the universe were mirroring his mood. Travel would be torturous and slow but he refused to delay his leaving by yet another day. There might not be any gendarmes now but there was no guarantee that would not soon change.

It seemed that he must then resign himself to yet more English mud. _Fantastic_.

Gnashing his teeth together he rose from where he'd been sitting on the floor and stretched the kinks out of his back. It was early still but with enough coin he was sure that he'd be able to rouse the public house's owner long enough to rent a carriage and a horse or two. There was no use in pretending that he could sleep. And besides, Erik had survived on far less rest before.

It was better to be quick about it and get it over with he supposed. Muscles stretched he set about gathering his meager possessions together again when he spied a brown bag - that was certainly not his - sitting forgotten by the door. His brow furrowed as he lifted it up and inspected it. A belonging of the room's previous tenant? But he didn't recall seeing it before when he'd first entered the room. And he might be old but he hadn't lost that much of his touch.

Lithe fingers made quick work of the button flap and ties. He reached inside and pulled out the stradivarius. Frowning now in disbelief he spied a cream colored piece of parchment that had been folded small and tucked gently underneath the violin's strings. Setting the instrument aside he unfolded the slip of paper and read its brief message in neatly penned feminine script.

_All I ask is that you think of me fondly when you play._

Erik dropped the paper in stunned disbelief. Here was a priceless family heirloom and she had pilfered it for him simply because she knew that he had loved it. Was this payment for services rendered? Or an apology for how things had ended between them? He glanced back at the note and read it five more times. But he could see no cunning artifice or falsehood hidden within the text.

She wanted him to have it simply because she knew that he would cherish it when her family did not even remember its existence.

The feeling that he'd made some tremendous mistake overtook him and chased out all reason. He realized now that he should have fought harder to explain himself. He should have stopped her from leaving. He should have figured out what words to say to make her come away with him.

There was no changing the past. But Erik knew one thing. He knew that he wanted her even still. And it was time to stop pretending that the phantom doesn't simply take whatever it is that he wants and let the consequences be damned. Had he not once made an entire country quake with fear at the mere mention of his name? Had he not bent the masses to his whims? Let the devil take the hindmost. He was used to serving his own interests above all others and sometimes the ends really did justify the means.

He set the violin back in the oiled canvas bag and shoved his less replaceable belongings inside as well. Money, travel papers, his spare mask, a leather folio of his better music. And then his life had been boiled down once more into the contents of a single bag. Still, it was more than he'd come away with before. He finished dressing quickly then slung the bag over his shoulder, threw the door open, and hurried down to the stables. Not even stopping to saddle the horse first he picked the most amiable one out of the crowd and unlatched the stall gate. A few bars sung later and the horse was as docile as a lamb and entirely his to control. He grabbed a fistfull of mane in one hand and leaped onto its broad back and then they were off.

The road was uncomfortable to traverse in the dark and rain and mud. It took nearly an hour to navigate the short distance in the storm. But then the estate loomed before him just as pre-dawn light began to lighten the gloomy overcast sky and Erik glanced up towards Evangeline's bedroom window to see if she had awoken for the day yet.

A whisper of movement caught his gaze from the corner of his eye. Erik glanced over to see what it was that had attracted his attention. Peering through the rain in his eyes his heart nearly stopped beating all together once he'd made out the outline of a person standing on the tallest portion of the old manor's mismatched roofline. A person with long gold hair that whipped back and forth in the storm's wind stood at the roof's edge - a person who was standing rather precariously on the wrong side of a rooftop balcony railing.

_Evangeline!_

A well placed heel in the horse's flank made the creature surge forward towards the library.

All he could think of was reaching her in time before she could lose her footing and slip.

"Evangeline!" he called up to her once he'd reached the edge of the rose bushes.

Evangeline seemed to notice him for she met his eyes and he saw her lips moving but whatever words she'd said were swallowed by the howling wind.

"Stay there!" he ordered and then he'd launched himself off of the horse and he was running towards the nearest door to the house.

It was latched, of course, but no door could keep out Erik once he'd set his mind to be on the other side of it. A well placed knife and a little shimmying granted him entry to the house at last. The library door proved more of a challenge however. The bolt was heavy and long and the wood trim had warped with time and age and it proved that it would not be so easily budged. Erik set his knife, instead, to the hinges. All three pins were pried from their metal casing. He threw them to the floor then stepped back and placed a few well placed kicks to the locking mechanism. The wooden door cracked and splintered under his assault and then the mechanism finally slipped as the door fell adjar and he had just enough time to catch the heavy ornate thing as he slipped it free and set it aside out of his way.

Dim light filtered into the library as Erik raced to the spiral staircase that would take him up to the roof. His long spidery legs made short work of the ascent as he took the steps two at a time and darted up towards the roof. The ceiling hatch was still open.

He propelled himself through the opening and ignored the rain that pelted at him and platered his shirt to his chest. His breathing was heavy with exertion as he stood to his full height and his eyes swept across the small open balcony.

And there she was, staring transfixed at the ground before her, with both feet only halfway covering the too-narrow ledge and both hands gripping the railing so tightly that her knuckles looked as white as bone. He took a step forward but stopped when she shifted away from him in response. A cautious stillness settled inside of him until he felt like a bow that had been drawn taught and not yet released. Muscles that quivered with the urge to move quickly were forcibly stilled. He spread his hands out slowly in quiet supplication.

"What are you doing here, Erik?" she asked finally.

"I've come for you," he answered.

Her face was pale and full of regret as she turned to look at him and her eyes searched his.

"Why?" she queried in a pained voice.

Erik shifted forward lightly with is arms spread wide. "Come back over the balcony, my dear, and we can discuss it once our feet are on solid ground again."

Evangeline shook her head and turned to stare back out into the distance.

Erik searched for the right words. "I am sorry. I should not have offered… I was trying to… I should never have asked you to look underneath the mask. You have nothing to prove to me Evangeline. I swear to you that I will never ask again. Now, please, climb back over so that I may spend a lifetime making it up to you," he pleaded.

Her wide eyes turned to him. "Is that what you… That's not… Erik this is not because of your face," she exclaimed with an expression of shocked disbelief on her face.

That startled him so much that he stopped his creeping approach.

Evangeline's lip quivered as she turned forward again. "It never mattered what I did. How many languages I learned, how polished my manners were, how perfect I tried to be, how beautiful I grew… every accomplishment earned a sharp remark. Some small flaw was pointed out. Accidents and clumsiness were intentional attacks. She'd whip me. For my improvement, she'd say, so that one day I would hopefully be less of an embarrassment to the family. I was never good enough. Eventually I stopped trying. If I would never be good enough then I may as well satisfy myself. Well that has not worked out as well for me as I'd thought," she scoffed as tears rolled down her cheeks and mixed with the rain.

Her head turned and the pre-dawn light cast a soft glow on her cheek as Evangaline looked at Erik with such a pitiful forlorn look of defeat.

"She hates me. My own mother hates me and she always will and there is nothing I can do about it," she confided. Her lip quivered with the misery of it.

"Damn them all, then, and come away with me. Their small minds do not define your worth. Let me be your shelter. Come and be my light," he pleaded.

Evangeline blinked at him with dull eyes.

"But Freddie," she whispered so softly that the words were almost lost to the summer storm.

"My love you are about to leave the both of us in the most permanent of ways. Is that what he would want for you?" he reasoned as he took a half step forward.

She was close enough to grab now but he did not wish to startle her when she seemed so close to acquiescing.

Evangeline sniffed and blinked the tears and rain from her eyes. Her lips pursed and wavered as she shook her head. Her tongue darted out and traced her split, swollen lip.

Erik's eyes took in the damage to her face and he felt rage burrow down into his soul. But there was no room for anger in this moment. Revenge was not what mattered most for once.

"Come," he reiterated as he stretched a hand out until their fingers almost touched. "Come to me," he repeated, adding a touch of hypnotism to his voice to make it a command.

Evangeline's furrowed brow relaxed and one hand released it's tight grip on the balcony as she reached up to grasp his outstretched hand.

A bolt of lightning split the sky and broke the spell he'd put her under.

Evangeline's foot slipped on the rain soaked roof as she turned.

Her scream filled the air as she began to fall.

Erik's arm shot out and grabbed her outstretched flailing arm. The balcony railing dug into his stomach and he grunted with the effort as he seized a firmer hold on her wrist. Her borrowed boots scrambled against the narrow ledge as she sought purchase. Arm and back muscles strained and bunched with overuse as Erik adjusted his grip and hauled Evangeline up inch by agonizingly slow inch.

Together they fell onto the little flat roof in a heap of limbs as Evangeline was dragged back over the balcony railing. Her head bashed into his jaw and snapped his teeth together with a _click_. He threw his arms around her and rubbed her arms and back half to assure himself that she was well and truly unharmed and half to reassure her too. She trembled against him then threw her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed as she clutched at him and buried her face in his neck.

"Come, we must go," he asserted. "Before you are missed. We will need the head start."

It took a moment to untangle their rain soaked selves and crawl down into the hatch. The descent down the spiral stairs was a blur. Erik glanced over his shoulder twice to reassure himself that Evangeline was truly following behind him. His hand tightened around hers. He was never letting her go again. Her eyes were glassy and half-lidded as she trailed behind him as docily.

The house began to stir as they stepped over the cast off splintered library door. A maid in the hallway spied them and gasped then shrank back, startled, and dropped her basket of firewood. Erik spared the young woman a glance. "Tell no one what you've seen," he commanded in his hypnotic voice. The maid stared after them silently and watched them go.

He paused just long enough to turn and sweep Evangeline into his arms and carry her outside. The horse he'd stolen from the inn ambled towards them sedately. Erik hoisted Evangeline onto the horse's back. He picked up the oiled travelers bag and slung it across his back. Grabbing a fistfull of mane he leaped onto the horse and seated himself behind her. Two heels in the horse's flank urged the beast forward.

Once they were past the edge of the property Evangeline turned her head to look behind them at the shrinking house.

"Where are we going?" she queried.

She sighed and settled back against him as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Erik's arms tightened and he let his fingers fan against her waist. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Home," he answered.


	43. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** Unedited chapters are available on A O X3 under the same title.

* * *

Evangeline sighed.

"Another boat?" she whined once she was certain shey'd not be overheard by the small boat's captain.

Erik loaded the last of the velises that they'd purchased (along with their entire assortment of clothing and personal necessities) during the long journey to Italy. They'd stopped in London just long enough to gather a few essential supplies for the weeks long trek from England. Clothing (a mixture of boy's and lady's) a silver hair brush, ribbons and hair pins, two sets of shoes, several different hats to hide her face, and a pair of false spectacles that Erik insisted that she wear anytime she dressed as a woman. It was her disguise, he'd explained, to prevent her recognition by anyone she might know in London or on the road. With the simple dove gray working class dress, second hand boots, a pair of spectacles, her hair pulled back into a severe bun and covered with a hat she was nearly unrecognizable even to herself. She doubted that anyone would see her now and ever associate her with her former posh life.

Still, he had insisted that she change often on the journey and he'd had her switch from boy to girl repeatedly between every stop. She'd traveled as either his younger brother or his spinster sister. It had been fun at first. And the freedom that she'd had to roam about the large steamboat at her leisure (while dressed as a boy of course) and even spit over the railing into the white crashing waves had been exhilarating at first. But after the first week it had just become plain exhausting and she longed to stay somewhere more than a single night or on a rocking hull.

If she never stepped on another boat or train car or passenger coach again it would be far too soon.

He turned to her with no trace of the annoyance he must have felt on his face. "We're almost there. Just a half hour more at most."

Evangeline nodded and screwed her lips shut and let him help her into the boat, then settled on a seat and wished that it wasn't nearly midnight so that she could actually see their surroundings.

During the journey Erik had regaled her with stories of Italy and Venice. He'd walked her through his memories of the sinking city and told her stories about it with such vivid details that if she closed her eyes she could practically see it. Well now she was actually there and there was nothing much to see. Traveling at night was better, he'd explained. There would be fewer witnesses, he'd said. It was rubbish, she'd complained. She wanted adventure. What good was adventure if she couldn't even see?

The little boat lifted off from the dock as sailors shouted orders to one another. It rocked gently as they sailed onward with nothing but the moon and a few lanterns for guidance.

Eventually they alighted at another dock. The sailors dumped their belongings off the ship and quickly rowed away. Evangeline turned and grabbed a bag and watched Erik as he picked up their suitcases.

"This way," he said and then he was guided her down twisting, narrow alleyways. Evangeline followed behind him dutifully as she concentrated on navigating the uneven cobblestones in the dark. She was thankful for her sensible boy's shoes.

At last they came to a stop in front of a fresco covered brick building. Evangeline studied the old brightly painted yellow wooden and iron door as Erik fished about his pockets for his keys. She paused to glance and take in what little of the street that she could see. All of the buildings had three or more stories. They'd climbed over three arching bridges to cross canals full of water to reach this street. The alley was narrow, as they all seemed to be in Venice where real estate was sparse, but it was charming. Flower pots hung from iron window railings and ivy climbed up a crumbling stone wall. Shutters had been pinned open and gauzy curtains stirred in the windows as a faint summer breeze made the muggy Summer heat less oppressive. Despite the late hour she could hear the murmurings of people going on about their daily lives. There was the clinking of cutlery and wine glasses mixing with laughter and hushed conversation as people talked within the comforts of their homes.

"Ah! There," Erik exclaimed as the bolt unlocked. He'd swung it open then picked up their things. She followed behind as he led her inside. The heavy door swung shut behind her.

The staircase was narrow and steep and difficult to traverse in the dark. Evangeline followed behind with one hand trailing on the wall to guide her step.

"You really must have cats eyes," she told him.

"The better to see you with," he humored her.

He led her to the top floor then paused outside of a door as he once again fumbled with his ring of keys. But before he could fit the keys in the lock the door opened.

Evangeline glanced up into the warm brown eyes of a Middle Eastern man dressed in a black formal three piece suit despite the heat.

"Ah, Daroga, you're here… of course you are," Erik grumbled. "Here, make yourself useful and take a bag," Erik said as he shoved a valise toward the man.

Evangeline felt the man's stare on her as Erik led her around the man and inside the apartment. She followed behind dutifully and tried not to stare back at him. Whenever she was dressed as a boy she avoided speaking around others. Her voice always gave her away. She was too tall to pass for a young boy who hadn't yet become a man. Her eyes darted around the room and bounced surreptitiously between both men.

Erik gave her a slight nod. "The Daroga is a… well I suppose he would call himself a friend. I would describe him more as a pest that I can not seem to shake no matter how hard I try."

The Daroga set the suitcase down in the hall then shut and locked the door behind them. He _tsked_. "I like to think of myself as your living conscience… since you seem to have none of your own."

Evangeline looked between them curiously as she pulled her her cap off her head, unbound her tied up hair, and massaged fingers into her aching, throbbing scalp. She sighed with the bliss of it.

"Oh Erik, what have you done now," the Daroga lamented with a groan as the man studied her up and down.

Evangeline's brows rose and a smile tipped her lips up as she darted her eyes towards Erik. "Are you in trouble now?" she jested.

"Erik is always in trouble as far as the Daroga is concerned," Erik quipped while shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the coat rack.

"Excuse my rude manners, _mademoiselle_. My name is Nadir Khan. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I am at humbly your service," the Daroga said with a polite little bow.

Evangeline smiled and curtsied, holding a pretend dress out to the side like when she'd learned how to properly present herself to the Queen at her debutante ball. "The pleasure is mine, please call me Eva," she offered with a nod of her head.

Erik snorted. "It took me weeks before you'd let me call you that," he pouted.

"_Monsieur_ Khan has nicer manners," she teased.

Erik threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

Evangeline awoke with an energized start and practically leapt from the bed. She crossed the room and pulled the sheer white curtains apart to peer through the wavy glass window. It was well past dawn and the streets were alive with foot traffic as Venetians made their way up and down the narrow side street. She watched a pack of young boys in short pants chase after a dog with a stolen bit of food as the shaggy mutt ran for freedom with his prize. Young women who seemed familiar with each other stopped for a moment to chat as they made their way through their daily chores. A man pulling a small hand cart squeezed past them, his cargo of glass bottles clinking together as they were jostled together over the rough cobblestones. Looking out over the horizon Evangeline's breath left her as she saw the city in full daylight. There were the canals that they'd walked over and on the water were strange little black boats with men ferrying their passengers about with long sticks to propel them. The entire city was cut all up with water ways. It was the most curious, charming, and fantastical thing that she'd ever seen. It was a city that looked like it had been plucked directly from a dream.

"Ah, you are awake," Erik called from the open doorway. "I thought I heard stirring."

Evangeline looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. She bounded over to him, threw her arms around his neck, and smothered his mouth with an open kiss.

"Please please please let's go and explore the city, I want to see absolutely everything!" she begged

"How can I resist when you ask so charmingly?" he agreed as he slid his hands down her back. "Get dressed, we will start with coffee and pastries. But hurry, the hour is almost half past nine already."

When the door clicked shut behind him she tore her chemise off and poured a good amount of freshwater into the basin. The water was cold and it made her skin pebble with gooseflesh but the feeling of being clean after the long journey was absolutely worth it. She dragged the sponge along her face and body then wiped herself dry with a fluffy towel. Evangeline slipped into a clean chemise and pulled her loosely laced corset over her head. While traveling she'd had to quickly learn how to dress herself. Erik had assisted her the first time or two. But it was difficult to manage it all the time with their brother and sister charade. He'd been the one to suggest the double long laces. This way she could slip it over her head already laced then tighten it down herself as best as she could. They'd not thought to buy a front lacing corset so they'd had to make do. Thankfully the structure and fit of her current secondhand dress was more forgiving, if less fashionable or flattering, than her typical haute couture gowns.

One chemise, followed by a set of stockings tied in place with garters, paired with shoes, and then her corset, corset cover, pockets tied around her waist, covered by one thin petticoat, and then the finally the whole ensemble was topped with her dress and she was finally fit to be seen in public. She brushed the snarls from her hair and threw it up into a simple style and pinned it quickly into place. Grabbing her straw hat she stepped out into the parlor and smiled when she saw the Daroga sitting in the wingback armchair as he read the morning's paper.

"Good morning, _monsieur_," she called to him with a nod.

The Daroga tipped his newspaper to her and answered in kind.

"Ready?" Erik asked as he pulled his fedora low over his forehead and extended his arm to her.

Evangeline took it and leaned into his side. "Always."

Their tour through Venice covered nearly all of its main points. They'd started by having a cappuccino and a flaky buttery pastry at the nearest cafe, then they'd walked to the famous Rialto bridge which spanned the grand canal at the heart of the city. As the major thoroughfare for Venice it was bustling with activity and packed with travelers and tourists alike. Gondoliers ferried passengers across the wide canal while street vendors tried to attract buyers to their display of goods.

Erik brought her to San Marco's square and showed her the old prince's palace and taught her about its architectural style and historical significance. Evangeline set her hand atop the head of a carved lion statue as she peered up at the exquisite marble building.

"They are restoring it? But what happened?" she'd asked.

Erik shrugged. "Fires, and the general decay of time. It is in a near constant state of restoration and rebirth now that the seat of the government has moved yet again. They plan to turn it into a museum from what I have heard. Now, if you turn to your right you will see Saint Mark's clocktower which is not only a timepiece but also an astrolabe."

Evangeline turned her attention to the blue and gold clock and smiled softly as Erik continued to show her about the city. As the crowds began to thicken in the square they dodged past the worst of it and wandered down a series of less crowded side streets until it was quiet and empty again. And that was the beauty of Venice. The main roads were filled with people but if you took just a few steps to the side and it felt like the entire city was yours again. She could tell why he liked it.

Hours passed by in a blur as the explored the island together until her feet had blistered in her boots. He showed her Marco Polo's house and the stamped brick with his name in it, then told her about Vivaldi's musical genius. He'd explained the exploits of the fictional lover Don Juan as well as the adventures of the very real and very scandalous author Giacomo Casanova who'd once called Venice home before his exile from the island.

"How scandalous," she'd laughed. "Where next?" she asked as they turned a corner.

"Supper I should think. Unless you are not hungry yet after the luncheon," he rebutted.

"I am famished," she answered.

"How do you feel about squid?" he queried.

Evangeline cut her eyes to him with a look of mock horror on her face.

"Alright, not squid, then. Although we really must work on expanding your narrow English palate, my dear."

Evangeline shot him a wry look. "My palate is quite refined enough, thank you very much."

They dined at a rooftop cafe that offered the most spectacular view of the city. Venice during the day had been breathtaking but by star and candlelight it was absolutely divine. It set a romantic mood that had her body humming with pleasure.

She drank wine until her head felt delightfully muddled and her heart felt lighter than it had in years. Each step towards the apartment on their walk home took intense concentration and effort as she swayed down the alley. Evangeline leaned into Erik and pressed her nose to his shoulder so that she could smell his unique scent as they strolled. What was it exactly? Amber, Sandalwood, and something else. His lips ghosted against her forehead and his breath stirred the fine hairs along her scalp as he placed a tender kiss against her brow.

"_Ciao! Buonosera_!" A friendly voice shouted at them from a distance.

They turned in time to see a young Italian man cross the canal to speak with them. Evangeline watched their exchange as Erik spoke to the man in Italian. She followed bits and pieces of the conversation although her Italian was rustier than she'd have thought and the man spoke rapidly and with a heavy accent. She glanced up at Erik in amused confusion when his grip on her slid from her shoulders to her hip.

The young man's friendly gaze roamed her from top to bottom as if assessing her.

She raised a haughty eyebrow and schooled her face into an unreadable mask of indifference. But this only made the young man laugh again. The two men talked animatedly a little bit longer.

"_Ciao, Francesco, addio_," Erik said finally as he waved the young man away.

The young man glanced at her and grinned then had the audacity to wink at her just before he slunk off to the side and continued on his way.

"What was that about?" Evangeline asked once they were alone again.

Erik cleared his throat, then sighed. "That fool is Francesco Bonato. He is a second chair violinist whom I play with on occasion when I am forced to perform my work in public. He was inquiring about my early arrival back to Venice and asking when I might be expected to return to the theater. I play at La Fenice on rare occasions after enough flattery and bribery from the managers and pestering from the Daroga."

Evangeline looked up at him thoughtfully. "I did not understand some of the words that he used. What is a _cumare_?"

"You will not repeat that word again," Erik scolded. Then in a gentler more apologetic tone he added, "It is not polite."

Evangeline thought on this then nodded with sudden understanding. The saucy wink made more sense now.

"He thinks that I am your mistress," she stated matter of factly.

That idea struck her with a sudden sense of clarity. And she was now, in the eyes of the world, wasn't she? Pausing a moment she considered whether or not she cared. She should, she realized, but instead she found that all that tightly coiled anxiety she'd carried with her for all of her twenty-six years had been lifted from her shoulders.

Erik's face colored and he looked pained for a moment.

Her head cleared suddenly from the wine and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The days may be hot and muggy but the nights held a crisp chill that hinted at the beginning of autumn.

"This was not what I had…" he sighed and looked miserable and defeated.

"Erik… everything is alright. I am fine. I mean honestly, did you really think that I would not know how this looks to others? But I find that I simply can not bring myself to care. I spent years living under the suffocating rules and expectations of others. I am happy to simply breathe now and to be myself for once regardless of what others may think of me- to find out who I truly am. In the first week of our journey I was numb to everything. You could have led me to China and I would have followed blindly in that stupor. But eventually the sharp edges of pain faded just a little and I was left with this overwhelming sense of relief that I no longer had to pretend to be what others wanted me to be or pretend to feel what others wanted me to feel. I can not predict what the future brings for any of us. But I know that for once I am excited to find out. Come what may."

He was silent as enveloped her, pulled her forward, and tugged her close.

Evangeline pressed her nose to his shirt and inhaled the rich scent of sandalwood and amber and something foreign. The corners of her mouth tipped up as she buried her face into the soft wool of his jacket.

"Let's go home," she murmured.

* * *

_September 2nd, 1874_

_My dearest brother,_

_Venice is lovely in the autumn when the tourists have left for warmer cities to the south. I am beginning to feel like a true Venetian and my Italian has improved greatly through complete immersion into the culture. I am overly fond of the cappuccinos and cornettos at Caffe Florian. It is a quaint little coffee shop in the heart of Saint Mark's square. One can sit there for hours and observe the people and pigeons. Somedays I am not certain which ones are more entertaining to watch._

_Italians are a remarkable and amusing people. They are as outwardly friendly to strangers as they are wary of them. The elderly woman who lives downstairs and sweeps the entryway each morning has adopted me as if I am a stray kitten. She collects, them you see. She tells me that I am far too pale and thin then feeds me seed cakes and tea while she tells me stories from her youth. She has the fattest orange cat that I have ever seen. He is often found either sunning himself in the fenced off garden out back or sitting on the brick wall and baiting the neighbor's small dog with his twitching tail. The little dog, his name is Tino, has quite the large bark for such a small creature. I am certain that if he ever managed to catch the cat he would be at a complete loss of what to do with it. For all that they pretend to be mortal enemies I think that they are secretly the best of friends._

_Erik tells me that he plans to take me to see Rome this November. I am quite excited to tour the archeological sites together. His expertise in architecture has amazed me. It seems that Erik has many hidden skills and talents. Just the other day he surprised me with a small but exceedingly complex mechanical toy. It is in the figure of a stone wall with a big fat cat. As the cat's tail twitches back and forth the small dog at the base rises up to snap the cat's tail in its jaws but just barely misses it. I laughed for hours until tears rolled down my face._

_After touring the local art gallery I have decided to take up painting again. Inspiration struck me as I viewed the works of Gentileschi and Carravagio. I have a tutor who comes to the house weekly for lessons. He is a strange creature with great big bushy white hair and who speaks very little and talks mostly with his hands. When frustrated at my stilted progress he waves them at me while cursing the most foul oaths that I have ever heard in any language- and yes that includes Russian. Erik nearly strangled him during the first instance. I think that I have mostly convinced Erik to let me handle my own affairs now. He can not understand how I am amused by all of it._

_I hope that I have not left you behind too much of a mess dear brother. Please send word with how you, Jonathan, and Georgiana are doing. I am terribly grieved at the lack of news from England._

_As ever your friend,_

_Your lovely, brilliant, and most talented sister_

_P.s. did I lay the guilt on too thickly there?_

* * *

Post Office Telegram

RECEIVED AT VENEZIA 30 SEPTEMBER 1874

693 VALLARESSO, BUILDING WITH A YELLOW DOOR, THIRD FLOOR

HER LADYSHIP MISS EVANGELINE CATHERINE ANNE HARLOWE

QUITE A MESS DEAR GIRL. JONATHAN AND I ARE WELL. GEORGIANA HAPPILY WEDDED. GLAD TO HEAR ITALY SUITS. PLANS TO VISIT NEXT SUMMER. AUNTIE SENDS HER LOVE AND SAYS TO TELL THE MUSIC MAN TO KEEP HER VIOLIN SAFE. YOUR MOST CLEVER HANDSOME TALENTED AND EVER FAITHFUL BROTHER.

* * *

_October 16th, 1874_

_To my no-account rottenmost brother,_

_Thank you for spreading the status of my name throughout all of bloody Italy. Your telegram created quite the stir and I have lost all shreds of anonymity. I have had no fewer than two callers a day for the past two weeks since your telegram arrived. The postmaster told his wife who told her sister who told her gardening club, etc. Word has spread like a drop of ink in a cup of water. What would have earned me the cut-direct in London seems to have had the opposite effect here. Italians are such romantics and the bourgeois of Venice were frightfully bored before we arrived. The social climbing idle gossips of the island wish to see me with their own eyes and gather stories about us to spread amongst themselves to make their dull little lives seem more interesting to their friends and, yet more importantly, to their rivals. We have had to refuse invitations to dinners, parties, and musicales left and right. Erik has threatened to move us to Vienna if it does not settle soon._

_On more pleasant news the landlady's fat orange cat has turned out to be female and has brought forth a litter of the most adorable kittens that I have ever seen in my entire life. She let me have my pick of the bunch. I've taken the largest male and named him Freddie so that I may yell your name loudly at him when I am cross with his poor manners. He has turned out to be quite mischievous so it happens with a great deal of frequency. His naming was apparently quite appropriate._

_Nevertheless we are looking forward to your visit this Summer. I have sweet talked Erik into renting the most charming flat off the coast of Capri from June through August. The address will follow once the details have been settled. I have heard that the swimming there is divine and there is a local cuisine called pizza that is absolutely not to be missed. If you are very lucky I will be so happily saturated with good pasta and even better wine that I will forget to attempt to drown you._

_Ever your friend,_

_Your darling sister_

_P.s. please do give Georgiana my felicitations on her nuptials_

* * *

Autumn came and went all too quickly and then suddenly it was very nearly winter. They'd returned from Rome just two weeks ago and been thrown right into Christmas preparations.

Evangeline had always embraced the Christmas season with widely opened arms. And why not? There was just something magical about that time of year when snow softened the harsh edges of the world and people were just a little bit kinder to one another. She loved everything about it from the Christmas carols, to the decorations, to the food, and to the presents. She _especially_ loved the presents. She didn't even mind having to go to church. Christmas Eve service had always been a favorite of hers. There was just something so enchanting about the candle lighting ceremony that she'd loved ever since she was a little girl. Her favorite part, however, had to be sitting around the fire scaring each other silly with ghost stories.

"What is the purpose of this?" Erik asked as he lifted up an orange that she'd studded all over with cloves.

Evangeline picked up the red ribbon that she had intended to string it with. "For hanging, silly, because it smells nice."

He lifted it to his face and sniffed it then shrugged and set it back down on the table.

"It seems like an awful lot of bother for one day," he asserted with an indifferent voice.

The Persian folded his newspaper shut with a _snap_. "Let the young lady enjoy her holidays, Erik. Who knows, perhaps a tiny bit of her joy will rub off on you just a little. Allah himself knows that you could use a little more levity in your life," the Persian chided.

Evangeline beemed a glorious smile at the Persian. "Thank you, _Monsieur_ Khan. Do your people have any traditions at this time of year? I am sorry that I did not think to ask you before just now." She took the clove studded orange and affixed the red ribbon to it with a sharp pin then set it aside and reached into her assortment of decor to grab more fixings.

"I have an entire tree sitting in my parlor at the moment instead of outside which is where trees generally belong. I have allowed quite a lot of frivolity into my life this December," Erik countered.

They ignored him.

"My people celebrate Eld Al-Adha, my dear. We pilgrimage to our holy site and spend the days in prayer and celebration. It is tradition to slaughter a sheep and divide it between family, friends, and the poor. It is a way to do a kindness to those who are less fortunate and to celebrate with those we love," the Persian explained.

"Similar to boxing day then and giving out alms to the poor," Evangeline concluded with a smile. "We should have mutton then along with our goose and donate some food to a poor house," she added.

The Persian smiled, nodded one, then opened up his paper again.

"What is _this_ now, with all these leaves?" Erik asked as he picked up a stray bit of white berried greenery that she'd been clumsily working into a bundle.

Evangeline huffed. "It was supposed to be a mistletoe ball but I fear that I have little skill for the task and it shall have to be a swag instead," she muttered.

Erik lifted it to his nose and gave it a sniff. "This one does not smell strongly."

She cast him a sidelong glance and gave him a wry smile. "Of course not it's for kissing."

"How so?" he probed as he turned the twig over in his hand and gave it an odd look.

"When two people stand under it together they must kiss," she explained with a touch of exasperation in her voice. "Really, Erik, were you raised by wolves?" she teased.

"By the family dog, actually," he answered.

Evangeline glanced at him with a puzzled expression as she tied a wire around the mistletoe swag then decorated it with a red ribbon. She surveyed the table full of decor and concluded that they likely had enough to make their small apartment festive enough for the season. She stood and gathered up one of the garlands.

"Help me hang it all?" she asked even as she turned and loaded up his arms with the long lengths of twined together evergreen branches.

They decorated the tree and the apartment together until the hour grew late and the Persian excused himself for the evening.

She grabbed two loops of a bow that she'd tied onto their christmas tree and set to straightening it then stepped back, did a sweep of the flat, and declared it sufficiently in the Christmas spirit.

"And this one?" Erik asked as he held the mistletoe swag above their heads.

It was so charming to see him slowly get into the Christmas spirit. He'd been shy and hesitant at first before offering suggestions and making little improvements. It also helped that he was very tall and could hang things up with ease.

Evangeline obligingly stood on her tiptoes, threw her arms around Erik's neck and placed a kiss against his mouth. His leather mask was warm against her cheek. Their tongues melded together as they kissed until she was breathless and strummed taut with anticipation. When she felt his arms come about her backside she thought nothing of it until he'd hoisted her up against him so high that her feet dangled in the air. She shivered. It was always so easy to forget just how strong and imposing he was until he did something like this which showed off his wiry strength.

She broke away from the kiss as he carried her towards the bedchamber.

"But what about our mistletoe?" she cried out.

"I will hang it later. For now we have more pressing concerns," he insisted.

Evangeline felt him hardening against her soft stomach as he carried her from the room. "Oh, yes… I see that you have certainly been filled with Christmas spirit," she teased.

Erik grunted. "No, my darling, it's you who is about to get filled," he countered as his hand dipped low to stroke her buttocks through the many layers of her skirt. He kicked the door to her bedroom open and carried her inside then shut it loudly behind them.

Evangeline laughed as he tossed her down onto the bed. She watched him as he undressed and made a show of it. His body was lean and beautiful despite the scars that covered his wrists and back. They'd never bothered her. Despite her curiosity about them she'd never asked and he'd never offered to share their story. She let her gaze roll over him and enjoyed the way his muscles bunched and moved as he shed his clothing.

Sitting up on elbows she enjoyed the show and made no move to disrobe herself. If he'd wanted her to begin undressing he'd have ordered it. Sometimes he preferred to take her clothed or in some various stage of undress. She'd learned months ago to let him lead. Erik craved control over their interactions… and her. And she was all too eager to give it. Her mind had a delicious way of shutting off when she surrendered to his whims.

Erik kicked his clothing free and stroked a hand down his hard, bobbing length. She licked her lips and let them part in offering as she watched a dot of fluid glisten at the tip.

"Kneel," he ordered.

She obeyed. Scrambling off the bed she sank down to the ground before him and assumed the pose he favored most. _The supplicant_, she called it in her head. With her arms linked behind her back, breasts thrust forward, and her legs spread wide on the floor she let her jaw go slack and stared up at him.

Their gaze locked together Evangeline watch the look of bliss that crossed his face at the exact moment that he fed himself onto her waiting tongue. Teeth tucked away behind her lips she focused on her breathing as he slid all the way to the back of her throat then pulled free. She blinked up at him with trusting eyes as he surged forward and cut off her access to air again. He repeated it twice more then settled more shallowly within her mouth, giving small thrusts as she sucked against him and bathed him with her tongue. He tasted musky and salty and distinctly male. Erik stared down at her with such intensity as she suckled him that she felt her own sex throb and plump in response. It was unnatural how he could trigger such reactions within her with just a look or caress or a word whispered into her ear.

Evangeline licked and sucked him dutifully as he set the pace while he fucked her mouth. Dampness creeped from her core as she throbbed and longed to touch herself. But the wait for release was half the fun.

Erik pulled free from her mouth with a _pop_ and Evangeline watched a string of saliva connect them once again for a moment before it broke apart with distance. He grabbed her by the arm and hoisted her up on weak legs, then spinned her about face quickly and shoved her shoulders forward. She brought her arms up to brace her weight onto the bed as she spread her legs and softened her knees. _The offering_, she thought.

Her skirts rustled as he hoisted them up and settled them on her back. Cold air kissed her delicate skin through the slit in her drawers. She shivered at the intrusion and the feeling of vulnerability at being exposed yet clothed.

Long thin fingers probed her wet slit and warm center through the opening of her pantalettes. He inserted one finger, then a second, and pumped them in and out of her until she moaned. Her weight shifted from one leg to the other while Erik hooked his fingers inside of her and brushed against the spot inside that made her want to scream.

His assault continued, then withdrew abruptly until she felt the familiar nudging of his erection at her swollen lips. He nudged at her entrance then sank inside with practiced ease. She sighed and pushed back against him, eager for him to continue. He stopped, instead, and Evangeline felt fingers at her nape and in her hair. One by one he pulled a hairpin from her coiled her and threw them to the floor with a _ping_. Once her hair was free he threaded fingers into it at her nape and pulled her head back sharply. His free hand clamped the flare of her hip and held her in place before him. The arch of her throat being stretched and the dull fire where his fingers fisted through her strands and tugged made her spasm around him as he thrust forward and bounced her knees against the bed.

Her mind filled with delicious fog as he forced her to her breaking point and shattered her against that place where the line between pain and pleasure blurred together. As she spasmed and clenched around him she moaned and cried out with her release.

"I don't recall you asking for permission first," he drawled.

Evangeline smiled and squeezed her muscles around him in silent response.

Erik gave her a moment to enjoy the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Must I remind you of your place?" he asked.

And then he began his assault on her in earnest.

He plunged forward at a grueling pace and bounced her against the bed even as he pinned her at the hip and with the hand he'd fisted in her hair. She stretched against him and whimpered while he sought his own release.

He rode her to ruin and all she could do was pant and hold herself up on her propped up arms as he slammed into her from behind with each thrust oh his hips. Her body surrendered to his bliss..

A moment later his own cries were added to the room as his pace increased to a frenzy then stilted then stuttered to a stop. He gave three more shallow little thrusts then released the merciless grip he'd held at the nape of her neck. His breath hissed through clenched teeth as she squeezed her muscles against him while he softened.

And then he pulled away from her and once again she felt fingers spreading her folds apart as Erik explored her again. Squeezing down on muscles that felt equal parts sorely used and satisfied she felt the proof of his release as it began to trickle out of her. She let her head hang down and squeezed it free from her and she wished that she could see his face. He always seemed to derive great pleasure from watching their mess trickle out of her.

His fingers roamed and found the apex of her core, the spot that sent shocks down her spine and made her gasp and moan underneath his hands. He rolled the swollen little bundle of nerves in circles then brushed it side by side. Erik's ingenious fingers toyed and played with her and brought her once again to the brink of orgasm. His pace slowed and increased then slowed again as he frustrated her purposefully.

"Erik… please," she moaned as he rolled her over sensitive parts back and forth and continued to torment her.

"Yes, my dear?" he prompted.

"Please Erik I want to cum," she begged. Her knees wobbled together as her legs shook with the strain of her building release. She shifted her weight on her hands and tried to push back against his fingers as if to show him where to press.

His fingers withdrew from her and she cried out in protest as her build to release stalled and the pleasure ebbed.

A hand came down and slapped her clothed backside with a fearful _clap_ that filled the room and startled a small yelp from her.

"You do not give the orders here," he reminded her.

Erik's hand came down on her other cheek which set it jiggling until it pulled deliciously against her throbbing sex. Her muscles clenched in response until the sting faded and left just a slow heat behind.

"I am sorry, please forgive me," she croaked even as she rubbed her thighs together in the hopes that it might stir some friction and might bring about her own release and end this aching torment.

"Pretty lies," he countered. "Do you think that I don't see your naughty squirming right this very moment? You will have pleasure when I give it to you and not a moment sooner. Is that clear?"

Evangeline forced herself to be still and made a noise of protest. "Please… please please please," she whispered as her pussy continued to throb and moisture slicked her thighs.

His hands rained down a blaze of sting and fire on her buttocks and thighs as he spanked her. A finger paused the assault and swirled her over sensitive bits until her hips bucked of their own accord and her breathing grew ragged again. A hand came down, a little lighter, directly on her swollen lips and the change startled her. He spanked her between her thighs once, then paused to play with her. When she began to squirm again he stopped fingering her and brought a hand back down again on swollen skin. Fire and lighting shot through her core as he alternated spanking and fingering her until once more she was on that familiar edge.

"I am going to cum sir," she warned him in a thready voice.

His fingers continued their dance of pleasure and pain. "Not yet," he ordered sternly even as he played with her.

Breath left her in a frustrated huff as she strived to stall her orgasm. She clamped down on it and held her breathing until she felt dizzy and lightheaded. Her head throbbed in time with her core as he slipped a finger inside of her and set his thumb to her and rubbed her mercilessly. And then she was nearly on the verge of passing out as the taut string within her pulled even tighter than she could have imagined.

"Cum for me," he commanded finally.

And she did. Evangeline exhaled on a scream and sucked in a greedy gulp of air as she spiraled into her second orgasm and collapsed against the bed. Erik's fingers played with her through her quivering at a leisurely pace until she twitched and sighed and then was silent.

Once she was done and still he pulled her limp form onto the bed and into his lap. His fingers threaded once again into the wild tangles of her hair.

She pressed her ear against his chest, nevermind that he was covered in a fine layer of sweat which was rapidly cooling and feeling clammy, and smiled at the rapid thumping of his heart.

"I love you," she murmured softly.

A finger came under her chin and tipped her head back as Erik's mouth descended onto hers in a kiss.

"I love you too," he whispered against her mouth and hugged her tighter.

* * *

Evangeline awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and full of energy. She dressed quickly but paid special attention to her hair which she'd brushed until it shone like spun gold. Braided strands on each side crossed to the back of her head and were pinned together in the back. The rest of it she left free. It was scandalous to be sure but she was past caring what others thought of her. Erik liked to see her hair down and curling about her shoulders and she was happy to oblige him on such a small thing.

She opened the door to her bedroom and walked down the hallway but paused and stared in wonder at the parlor.

What had been cheerfully decorated with evergreen garlands, red ribbons, and boughs of holly had been utterly transformed. She stepped into the room and turned about to take it all in.

Paper snowflakes, each one more intricate that the last, had been suspended on small wires from the ceiling. They blanketed the room and added a whimsy that her Christmas decorations had lacked. Tiny snowflakes lay scattered all about covering every spare inch of their fireplace mantel and each and every table.

Evangeline paused on her way to their small kitchen and looked up at the perfectly spherical ball of mistletoe that had been suspended from the arch by a red velvet ribbon. A smile split her face as she spotted Erik, hunched over their little table and fast asleep, with his face buried in his arms.

She headed back to the parlor and grabbed their knitted throw from the back of the settee then carried it to the kitchen and draped it over his shoulders. He awakened as the weight of the blanket settled on his frame.

Bending down she pressed a kiss to his mask. "Thank you."

* * *

"When you said that we were going to church for the candlelit Christmas Eve service I had been under the impression that we might attend through the front door like normal people," Evangeline muttered.

Erik looked over his shoulder at her with an unreadable expression. "Since when are either of us considered normal? Besides, sneaking in where one is not welcome makes it all the more exciting," he proclaimed as his deft fingers shimmied the lock picking tools inside the big iron padlock. It clicked open and he caught it before it could fall to the floor and make a great deal of noise.

"Ladies first," he offered as he swept her inside quickly and shut the door behind them.

The back of the church was pitch black and her eyes strained and failed to adjust to the dark as Erik grabbed her hand and led her through the dark. Faint murmurings from the front of the church filtered through the stone building. The priest's sermon had just begun.

"Where are we going?" she whispered, then felt fingers on her lips to shush her.

Erik led her through the black with his cats eyes. She stumbled on the first stair but managed to catch herself. His hand gripped her by the elbow as he led her up a spiral staircase. They climbed for what felt like ages until at last the stone stairs ended and when she stepped she heard the squeak and shift of wooden floorboards.

The hiss of a match being struck and the flare of is tiny light cast a soft glow as Erik let her hand go and set the tiny flame to an awaiting candle.

Evangeline turned in circles as the darkness peeled away with each lit candle. Dozens of candelabras had been scattered about a narrow room. She looked up and peered into the darkness of the bell tower and could just faintly make out the huge brass bell at the top.

"Wine?" Erik offered as he pulled out a bottle and his knife and cut the seal.

She giggled. "My favorite part of church," she joked while Erik worked the cork free.

He motioned for her to sit, then magicked two glasses from somewhere hidden and poured her a healthy measure. At his gesture she sat and fixed her skirts around her legs.

"We will not be bothered here?" she hazarded and took a sip as she glanced about the tower. The candles cast a soft romantic glow as the sounds of the priest's Christmas sermon filtered softly through the floorboards.

"I know for a fact that the bells were automated four years ago. It was one of my first jobs in Venice, truth be told. They come up here rarely now. There will be no bell ringer to disturb us tonight," he confided.

Erik poured his own glass then set the bottle aside and, folding his long legs on either side of her, sat behind her.

Evangeline let her head tip back onto his shoulder and closed her eyes as the choir started to sing. It was blissful. They listened in friendly silence as the choir led the church from one song to another.

"I have another surprise this evening," Erik added as he reached into a pocket and rummaged about.

"Me too," she interrupted. Her skirts rustled as she reached through her many layers into her pockets and pulled out a small wooden box. "Ladies first?" she asked as she held it up.

Erik pulled an empty hand out of his pockets and took the wooden box into his hands. The lid creaked open and he pulled out a gold and silver pocket watch from inside. It gleamed in the candlelight. The front motif was a pattern of stars. She hoped that he recognized it as the astrolabe design from the clock tower that he'd shown her on her first full day in venice.

She leaned back into his chest as her studied it. "I had it custom made. If you open it you will see the cameo that I painted for you."

Erik opened it dutifully and held it at an angle till it caught the light. He clicked the watch open.

Her own face, in miniature, stared back at them. Despite the small size of the painting it did not lack in detail. Her mouth tipped up in a saucy smile and her eyes squinted with secrets. A rosy blush spread across her freckled checks. She'd worn the white and gold gown that he favored and her blonde hair fell about her face and neck in a lion's mane of curls. The bodice of her gown dipped low to expose a tasteful amount of decolletage.

She felt a kiss being pressed against her temple as Erik ran a thumb along the side of the pocket watch.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"How could I not?" he answered.

Evangeline grinned as excitement bubbled up inside of her. "Good. Now open the back. See this crescent moon? Press it with your fingernail."

He pressed the edge of his thumb against the crescent moon and felt the back of the watch pop open in his hand. Erik clicked the front shut and turned it over in his hands. A laugh ripped from his chest as he spied the intricate moving mechanism on the backside of the watch.

"Is it not absolutely scandalous? With every second that ticks on the face of the watch he thrusts into her. I knew that you would appreciate the moving mechanisms as well as the salacious design," she explained.

They stared at the complicated moving motiff of a man bedding a half dressed woman. Her legs were splayed on either side of him as he kneeled before her, poised to thrust in and out of her as time marched on. Her breasts had exploded from the confines of her half laced dress and her head was tipped back in ecstasy as her clockwork lover tirelessly worked her.

"Everytime you check the time I want you to think of what is happening on the backside of this watch and then think of me," she added.

"You are incorrigible," he chuckled as he clicked the back of the watch closed and hid the fornicating lovers from view. Erik spirited the watch away into a pocket.

"It is one of the things that you love most about me," she chirped.

"I love everything about you," he proclaimed and pressed another kiss against her hair.

Evangeline smiled widely and plucked the velvet box from a fold in her skirt. "My turn now!" she exclaimed as she held her empty hands open in the air before her and shut her eyes.

Something small and soft and heavy filled her hands.

She opened her eyes and saw a little black velvet box. With trembling hands and a lump in her throat she cracked it open.

The ring was yellow gold and stunning. Her heart began to hammer wildly in her chest as she peered down at it. A carved filigree band widened until it flared dramattically to cup a large rectangular diamond. Small swirls of scroll wrapped around the stone, and tiny seed pearls dotted their center to form a halo. Evangeline plucked the ring from the box and held it up to catch the light.

"I would do it properly… but I thought… that is I mean to say… I had hoped…" Erik stammered.

Evangeline twisted in his lap and turned to look at him as she held the ring between them and searched his face.

"Your feelings on matrimony are clear to me and I do not mean to pressure you. I do not need a slip of paper or hollow words from a priest to know how I feel about you. I merely want to spend my life with you, to take walks together on Sundays and spend each and every Christmas together making garlands and snowflakes. I will spend a lifetime showing you all of the wonders of the world so long as you wear this ring. And if you should tire of it… of me… simply take it off and I will… I will let you go and wish you well," he proposed.

Evangeline blnked tears from her eyes and realized that he was waiting for her answer. But a lump had lodged in her throat. She nodded mutely instead and smiled at him even as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Erik took the ring from her and cupped her hand as gently as if it were made from glass. The ring slipped up her finger effortlessly and settled into place.

Grabbing his hand to thread their fingers together she reached up with her other arm and cupped his face. She pulled his mouth down to hers in a gentle kiss. The mask pressed warm and soft like an old friend against her cheek.

* * *

The Persian said nothing of the sudden appearance of a ring on Evangeline's finger or the fact that Erik, whose clothing had been moved into his office and who had been sleeping (whatever little he did sleep) on the settee, moved his things back into the master bedroom that Evangeline had overtaken upon her arrival to Venice.

But the next day they awakened to a quiet empty flat. The newspaper was still on the front stoop where it had been thrown by the delivery boy. There was no Turkish pot of tea steeping in the kitchen. His hat was mysteriously missing from its normal peg and a valise was missing from the closet.

It was Evangeline who found the note folded and propped against the wooden fruit bowl on their dining table.

_Gone to Paris to visit Madame Giry. Will return in a month or so._

* * *

Evangeline stared through the eyeholes of her mask as best she could. Carnivale had been everything that she'd expected and more. Together she and Erik and _Monsieur_ Khan had watched the day's parade down the Grand canal as festively decorated gondolas carried elaborately dressed figures in a rainbow of colors downstream.

Venice was alive and her people were celebrating the coming of Spring.

Wine flowed as freely as water and vendors sold food until the wee hours of the night as revelers partied and drank and celebrated.

She wandered the streets and was jostled by the shifting crowds as she sought a perch to stand and enjoy the view. It was a riot of colors and feathers and costumes. Many of the crowd wore full masks and ensembles that covered every inch of their bodies. Even their hair was disguised with fabric. Others simply wore their most elaborate attire and simple half masks.

The masks themselves varied from gruesome to lovely and everything in between. Most were painted porcelain but some were leather or painted lace.

Someone in the crowd bumped her and she felt her costume shift. Stepping to the side she corrected it. The damned thing was so heavy but Erik had insisted. His own costume was a complete secret. He'd made them both and had maddeningly refused to reveal his to her in advance. He wanted to surprise her he'd said. He had a gift planned for her, he'd claimed. _Damn, these wings are heavy._

Cursing Erik for making her wear such an elaborate and heavy costume she reached back and adjusted her white angel wings and checked for the thousandth time that night that her mask wasn't crooked also.

The white and gold angel costume had been beautiful and breathtaking until she'd had to wear it. Now it was just heavy and awkward with the jostling crowds. She was thankful that there was still a chill in the air otherwise she'd be overheated in such a garment.

Costume crisis averted Evangeline threw herself back into the crowd of revelers as she searched the crowds for Erik. She'd know him when she saw him, he'd said. He wanted to hunt her down, he'd explained. The revelers cheered and danced to live music as she was folded back into their numbers. Bacchus himself would have been proud of them.

The music stopped abruptly and a hush fell over the crowded street as an imposing figure cut through the horde of costumed partiers. Evangeline turned and watched the masked figure's progress towards her.

A gold bird's mask with a large, ominous pointed beak looked back at her. A black antique pirate's hat trimmed in black ostrich feathers dripped with gold finery adorned his head. The rest of the costume itself was simple; a suit made of matte black velvet edged in gold threaded brocade trim. He was death. He was plague. And he had come for her.

Evangeline tipped her head back and stared up into familiar golden cats eyes as death extended a black leather clad hand towards her. She set her white lace gloved hand in his and followed him through the throng of people. In the middle of San Marco's square they joined the waiting line of dancers. The nearby band struck up a waltz. Party goers (glad to have their music back) took up their carousing again.

Death grabbed her neatly by her waist and danced her nimbly into formation. They turned and spun and swirled until she was breathless. It felt like if he spun her quickly enough her wings would come to life she'd take flight. They danced for what felt like hours until the mass of people began to thin and the hour grew late. Children were taken home and put to bed. Wine splattered every surface and merry makers grew more lecherous and wanton as couples paired off to find dark alleys where two strangers could become one for an evening before parting ways in anonymity.

Tired and light headed from wine and dancing Evangeline followed where Erik silently led her.

He pulled her deeper into shadows as they left the frivolity of San Marco's square behind them.

The alley was half lit from open windows and a gas lamp and not quite deserted yet. A small group of ornately attired Venetians stood together talking loudly. Erik turned and pressed her back flush against the stone wall. His mask stared down at her and sent a chill of goose flesh up her arms. His khol lined golden eyes pierced hers as he pressed his weight into her and pinned her against the bricks.

Long thin fingers pulled at the various layers of her skirt until he'd bunched it up around her hips. Cold air tickled her skin and a blush covered her from chin to chest as Erik exposed her naked legs. He'd forbidden her from wearing anything underneath her petticoats and now she knew why.

Already her inner thighs were slick with anticipation. His hand on her waist as they'd danced had started the throb between her legs. He'd brushed fingers up her back and chest once or twice during a country dance. Soft warm leather brushed once between the junction of her legs then disappeared as she leaned back against the wall and obediently spread her legs for him.

Erik grabbed one of her hands and set her skirts in her grasp then repeated it with the other side so that she stood there holding up her many fine layers, exposed and naked and vulnerable, for anyone who might peer down the half-lit alley to see. The cool breeze tickled at the curls between her legs as moisture gathered there and focused her attention on her shamefulness. She shouldn't be enjoying such a terrible thing but she was. There was no denying it as her heart fluttered wildly in her chest and a familiar ache for more flared and grew within her. She needed. Her body wanted more. _Someone might see._

A leather clad finger ghosted up her naked inner thigh. It traveled slowly up her leg but stopped short of where she wanted him to touch her most. Evangeline shifted her grip on her skirts and lifted them higher. She was fully exposed now. If anyone were to walk by they'd see her fully on display as Erik stroked her inner thighs. _I am a good girl now please please please reward me,_ she begged him silently with her eyes with her lower half out on display for all to see.

His leather glove slid North. Her eyes closed when he finally found her center and slipped one long digit up. A hand on her chin distracted her for a moment as Erik tipped her masked face towards the end of the alley where the group of dancers shared a flask of liquor between them. _Will they notice? Are they too drunk to see this far down the alley in the dark?_ Her heart raced in her chest as Erik's leather clad fingers rubbed against her dampness.

She yearned for more even as Erik worked her with practiced ease. His hand knew every inch of her body. He seemed to know just how to make her gasp and beg and plead and whimper.

Obediantly she kept her eyes open on the group of men at the end of their small alley. _Do they know? Have they seen?_

As her pleasure started to build Erik stopped. In a series of movements that were too quick for her wine dulled mind to recognize he'd freed himself from his trousers, hoisted her up, and impaled her with a single thrust. She cried out at the abrupt entry and the masked group down the alley turned to look at her as Erik began to wildly go at her.

Her thighs tightened around his hips as her skirt bunched up between them exposing the creamy lengths of her legs as they gripped him tight. Her wings and hat were crushed against the wall as he speared her with reckless abandon. She grabbed his shoulders for support.

Laughter down the alley pulled at her attention. _They're watching. Erik is taking you in a dirty alley and people are watching us._ Loud moans ripped from her throat. She throbbed around him as his assault on her continued. Her breath came in ragged pants as the familiar coil of tension built and tightened deep within her. The angle deepened and ripped a cry from her throat as she threw her head back and tipped her head to the side.

She watched the Venetians watching her get taken up against a wall. And she loved every minute of the shamefulness.

It was lurid how the hot squelching of their bodies joining together filled the halfway empty street and echoed off the bricks. Erik groaned with the effort as he pistoned in and out of her roughly. His punishing grip on her thighs released enough for one hand to snake its way up to her bodice and rip the top of her gown downward, corset and all. One breast bounced free, and then the other as he pulled her completely on display.

She tightened on him and groaned as the cold air and shame pebbled her nipples into sharp peaks. She locked her hands on his shoulders and arched back into the wall. The angle between them deepened and her breasts spilled out. A wing snapped at the force of his thrusting. He bent her leg and changed the angle yet again and now he was rubbing at something inside of her that was so delicious that stars danced behind her eyes.

"I am going to cum," she whispered in a hoarse voice. Just how much had she been moaning? Her voice felt thick and scratchy.

"Louder," he commanded.

"Please! I am going to cum," she warned him slightly louder.

"Louder! So that everyone can hear you enjoy being used like a harlot in an alley while strange men watch," he prompted.

Evangeline scrunched her eyes shut as he blush spread from her face to her neck and breasts in a fiery blaze. The coil of her impending release tightened and thrummed until it was nearly unbearable.

"Please sir!" she nearly yelled it. "I would like to cum," she begged him loudly. Laughter and snickering and conversation teased her ears then faded as her mind narrowed down onto the sensations between her slippery thighs as Erik shagged her ragged and raw until she felt that she would weep if he didn't put an end to her delicious misery. Tears pricked her eyes with the effort to hold it at bay. It felt like dying.

"Sing for me!" Erik ordered.

Evangeline threw her head back against the wall and let herself shatter onto that familiar precipice. Her throaty release bounced and echoed off the alley walls as her body clamped down onto him with such force as she spasmed and fluttered around him.

Erik's release followed soon after. Hot ropes of slickness filled her until she leaked then mixed with her own juices and trickled down her bare thighs as Erik set her down on wobbly legs and let her skirts settle back into place. He tucked his softening member away and checked his mask with nervous habit.

Her heart slowed its hammering in her chest and her breathing steadied until Erik grabbed her by the elbow and propelled them towards, not the abandoned end of the alley as she'd expected, but towards the end where their voyeurs had stood in the shadow and watched them fornicate.

She realized belatedly that her breasts were still tugged free of her corset and dress. They bounced slightly with each step over the uneven cobblestone as Erik paraded her past the assembly they'd performed for. As they neared the group of masked strangers she held her head as high as the titled lady she'd been trained to be. Her hand rested lightly on Erik's proffered gentlemanly arm. She knew from experience that her neck made a graceful line and her posture was perfect. As they passed the masked revelers the men raised their shared flask and hooted and hollered at her. One lifted his mask enough to stick a finger and thumb into his mouth and whistle.

Evangeline continued to hold her head up high as they persisted in their slow meander towards home. Slick and delicious shame trickled slowly down her thigh with every step.

She smiled underneath her mask.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who read this story through until the very end. This work has been a labor of love that started back in the summer of 2017 shortly after I finished writing Persephone Unchained. I hope that you've enjoyed a slightly different (surprisingly kinky) kind of Erik. I know I enjoyed writing him. And for those of you who are curious yes I did make a conscious decision to leave out an unmasking scene. Every time I plan out a POTO story I wonder how to handle it. It's nearly always such a turning point for the story. Evangeline simply didn't need or want one.


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